No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem
by Concolor44
Summary: Benny's Breakfast House is the best-kept non-secret in Jump City.  They will serve ANYONE, no questions asked, and they mean it.  Rated for some language.   Now no longer a one-shot.  Anyone who wishes may contribute a chapter to this story.
1. Chapter 1 Speedy and RedX

**No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem**

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_*Author's Note: Slightly AU, at least as far as relationships go. This story was inspired by a reference in Chapter 8 of Weretiger Marduk's story "A Little Black Magic" (thanks, Marduk!). Benny's Breakfast House's motto is "We serve anyone, no questions asked." And they mean it.*_

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Standard Disclaimer: Me no be ownin' dem Titan. Titan be ownin' alonga DC.

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_Slllluuurrrrrrrrrp!_

Over the rim of his cup of coffee, Red-X cocked an eyebrow at the young man seated across the diner booth from him. "Picked up your manners from Beast Boy, did you?"

Speedy smirked briefly and shook his head. "Nah. Kid Flash."

"Ugh."

"I know, right? He's a bad influence."

"Aren't you solo now? Thought you didn't pal around with that crowd."

"Eh. We share missions when we have to. No biggie." He leaned back into the corner and put his left foot up on the seat. "So this is Benny's."

"Yep. Anti-climactic, much?"

"It's mid-morning on a Tuesday. I wasn't expecting there to be very many here." He swirled his coffee and took another satisfying sip. "This is top-notch."

Red-X nodded. "Yeah. Benny roasts his own, y'know."

"No shit?"

"Serious. He says he tried branded brews, but nothing ever tasted just right."

"This does."

"Heard that."

"So how long have you known about this place?"

"Close to … yeah, a year now, I make it. Wow." He picked up his own cup, took a long swig, and set it back down, smacking his lips. "Time flies."

Speedy nodded at his boothmate's cup. "What is that concoction again?"

"Soy caramel mocha latte, extra whipped cream."

The archer shuddered. "Bleah."

"Hey, just because you like it straight. I don't know how you can take it all black and bitter like that."

"Says the guy drinking a candy bar in a cup. Ick." He used his mug to indicate one of the other few patrons. "That fella over there in the corner …"

Red-X glanced around briefly and turned back. "Yeah?"

"I don't recognize him."

"That's kinda the idea, y'know."

"He looks a little old to be a supervillain. And what's with the eyepatch?"

"Who says he's a supervillain?"

Speedy just raised an eyebrow at that.

"Seriously, man," Red-X insisted, "the sign says they serve anyone, no questions asked. And Benny turns out an _**awesome**_ banana-nut waffle. His clientele isn't exclusively heroes and villains."

"Uh-huh. But that guy pings my radar like nobody's business."

"So? There's nothing you can do about it here. He won't bother you. You won't bother him."

"And you're dead sure of that?"

"Dead as a hammer."

"Huh."

The man in question, now finished with his omelet, carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin, folded it neatly across his plate, and rose, proceeding to the long bar where stood the single cash register in the café. Benny came over to settle the bill with him, and Speedy took the opportunity to scope out their host again.

Benny (he apparently did not possess a last name) was not much to look at. Average height, somewhere within five years of fifty, half-bald, and maybe fifteen kilos overweight, he sported a stained wife-beater and a heavy gold chain around his neck. He also wore a large, bulky, metallic bracer-type thing on each wrist, and the nature of those items intrigued Speedy mightily. Red-X didn't know what they were, only that they comprised a part of Benny's security system.

Money and receipt changed hands. Benny touched two fingers to his forehead, grinned, and offered, "Be careful out there, Mr. Wilson."

_Wilson? ! ?_ Several points converged in Speedy's mind, and he blanched. One hand, of its own accord, inched toward his quiver.

"Wouldn't do that."

Speedy jerked around to stare at Red-X, then glanced down at his hand. He made a fist and placed it in his lap, then looked back up as Slade Wilson turned and strolled out the front door.

Red-X leaned forward. "And not just because I think attacking Slade would go in your 'Worst Moves of the Year' file." He tipped his head toward Benny. "He enforces the 'neutral ground' rule. Piss him off, and he'll ban you for life."

Easing back into his seat again, now that Slade was gone, Speedy said, "That's another thing I don't get. You said anyone could come here, and no one would fight, right?"

"Right."

"But … seriously … _**anyone?**_ Like, if Green Lantern was here and Sinestro walked in, you telling me they wouldn't go at it?"

"They might try."

"But," protested the archer, "how could Benny possibly …" His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the front door swinging open. Red-X noticed and turned to follow his gaze.

Two very pretty teenage girls walked in, arms around each other's waist. The one with her pink hair done up in horns winked at Benny, who chuckled and waved as they made their way to a booth on the other side of the café. The other girl, an Asian beauty in a shimmery green dress, whispered something into her companion's ear that made her giggle.

Both young men got very quiet for several seconds before meeting each other's eyes. Speedy let out a long sigh and said, "I thought Jinx was dating Raven. Didn't they leave the Titans over that?"

"Jinx will jump anything with a vagina." This was said with rather more venom than Speedy had expected.

Surprised, the archer narrowed his gaze at the girls. The light came on. "That's Cheshire!"

A disgusted look was Red-X's only response.

"Didn't you two … sort of …"

"Yeah."

"So … then, she's …"

"Yeah. Equal opportunity employer."

Jerking his head at the girls, Speedy asked bitterly, "How's _**Raven**_ feel about that?"

"I wouldn't know. But she never struck me as the type to share."

"Got _**that**_ right."

"You two dated for a while, didn't you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

At that point the waitress walked up with their food. This was Red-X's first meal of the day, and Speedy was known throughout the superhero community as a legendary bottomless pit, so the business at hand pulled their minds away from their female-related woes.

Red-X, having finished his eggs and sausage, was starting on his waffle, and Speedy was working on the last bits of his blueberry tall stack, when an older sedan screeched up to the café and two armed guys in ski masks jumped out and ran inside. One of them yelled, "Nobody move!" The other one advanced on Benny, aiming a sawed-off shotgun at the restaurateur. "Open the cash box! Now!"

Benny didn't do that. Instead, he leaned his elbows on the counter and propped his chin on both fists. "You boys don't know where you are, do you?"

"Don't get cute, Pops. Just fork over the money and you stay not-dead."

"I don't think I'll be doing that. The forking-over part, I mean."

The robber's partner, who had been looking around at all the patrons, backed up to him and gave him a nudge. "Hey. Bob."

Shotgun Guy (whose name appeared to be Bob) gave his partner a glare and said, "What?"

"That's … that's Jinx over there."

Suddenly sober, 'Bob' looked at the teen villain. She flashed her trademark grin and waggled her fingers at him. Her black-haired companion was staring at them in much the same way a wolf would contemplate a rabbit.

"And … and over there …" He waved in the other direction. "That's Speedy. I seen him take down a crew at the mall."

"Is that Red-X?"

"Uh … yeah. I think so."

"Ain't he, like, a master thief or somethin'?"

"Yeah."

"They're eatin' breakfast … together?"

"Uh … yeah. An' that guy over by the front window …"

"… Is that the Penguin?"

"I think so."

"What's he doin' outta Gotham?"

Benny tapped the bar. "Excuse, me, boys."

They both turned to him, eyes wide, weapons clutched in close.

"Boys, this here is neutral territory. You wanna drop in, have breakfast any time o' day, take a load off, shoot the shit, whatever, that's what we're here for. But I don't allow no fights. An' I don't take kindly to havin' guns pointed at me. Even if it won't do ya any good."

Bob swallowed, with some difficulty. "Uh …"

"In fact, I don't think ya need 'em at all."

Bob's death-grip on the shotgun suddenly changed and he jerked his head down at his weapon, which was now very obviously made of something like silly putty. The barrel began to droop toward the floor. He tossed it away as if he thought it would bite him.

"Now. You guys wanna order somethin', have a seat. Otherwise, scram."

They scrammed, and left significant portions of tire rubber on the parking lot in their eagerness to be elsewhere.

Speedy let out a breath he didn't remember holding and turned to Red-X. "Holy shit."

"At least."

"How's he do that?"

"Good question. You want to ask him?"

Speedy held up both hands in a gesture of negation. "I just want to finish my pancakes."

"Good plan."

They ate in silence for a minute. The Speedy asked, in a low voice, "What would have happened if they'd just opened fire when they walked in?"

"Don't really know. But do you remember when that Kinetic Knight guy was fighting the Titans about two months ago?"

"Hell, yeah. Heard he mopped up the ground with 'em."

"Right. He did. I caught part of the action and stayed out of it."

"Surprise, surprise."

The thief shrugged. "Not my fight. But somebody put in a call to the League. Supes got there and they squared off."

"Oh. I didn't hear about that."

"It was short. KK decided he couldn't lick the ol' Man of Steel mano-a-mano, and hightailed it. Ended up here. Came swooping in and tried to take everyone hostage, to use as leverage. You remember how he could blow completely through a building with his kinetic powers?"

"Yeah. Wrecked most of two blocks of downtown that way."

"Uh-huh. First thing he did when he came in was hit Benny with one of those force blast things."

"… Yeah? And?"

"When Supes showed up, there was no sign the Knight had been here. Benny offered to take his order. The other customers were just sitting around, eating."

"… Whoa."

"And the Kinetic Knight hasn't been seen since."

"… Shit."

"So, word to the wise, don't pick any fights here."

"Got it."

The waitress came around and refilled Speedy's coffee. He picked it up, took a contemplative sip, and leaned back into his corner, mulling over what he had learned.

Red-X dug a few bills out of a pocket and laid them on the table. "And, Speedy?"

"Yeah?"

"Spread the word about this place, k?"

"You got it."

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_*Author's End Note: It just struck me, while reading about the meal that Mammoth brought back for the girls, that Jump needed some kind of Demilitarized Zone. Recalling what I have read of lovely places like Spider Robinson's "Callahan's Crosstime Saloon" and Sigurd Volsung's "The Mystic Wolf Tavern", this seemed perfect for the position._

_I'm producing a series about this unique little cafe, as you can tell, and have decided to open it up to all and sundry. So, if you have a story rattling around that you think might fit here in Benny's, go ahead and write it. If you wish to make it an official chapter here, I'll be happy to do the beta reading and post it under your name. If you would rather post it on your account, the way 100 Silver Wings did with her excellent tale "Second Fiddle in the Scheme of Life", I will make a note of it here and indicate where it fits chronologically. Either way is fine with me. Also, if you would like to see a given scenario played out here, but don't have the time to write it yourself, just PM me with the plot and I'll take it from there. Cheers!*_


	2. Chapter 2 Starfire and Mammoth

**_No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem_**

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_*Author's Note: Well, my Muse seems to have a new hobby. It does me no good to try to persuade her elsewhere if she's made up her mind on a story, so here's another little installment.*_

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Part 2: Starfire & Mammoth

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With a quick staccato of delicate taps, Koriand'r's boots touched down in the parking lot at Benny's Breakfast House. She stood in contemplation of the front door for several seconds, also surveying the building's understated exterior. This residential neighborhood wasn't anyone's idea of upscale, but neither was it a slum. One of Jump City's many industrial zones began two blocks to the east. A series of high-rise office buildings stood between the small, brick café and the bay to the west.

Marshaling her spirits, she lifted her chin and strode on in. She had to stop just inside the door to draw a deep breath of appreciation at the bewildering array of wonderful aromas.

It being Friday, and shortly past eleven, the lunch crowd was just starting to show up, but there were still plenty of tables and booths. The dining area looked strangely larger, now that she was inside, than the unassuming structure might have indicated. But maybe that was just a trick of the light, since all three exterior walls were glass and a long mirror took up much of the space behind the bar. She spotted a small table near the left end of the bar and moved over to it, many of the patrons openly gaping at her.

She was used to that, though. It came with the position.

The waitress that bustled up, however, was all business. "Mornin', Miss. What can I get you to drink?"

"I would like a glass of iced water, please, and a bottle of mustard."

The waitress didn't turn a hair. "Regular, Chinese hot, or Dijon?"

"Ooo! You have Dijon? That one, please!"

"You want two straws?"

"Yes, please, that would be perfect!"

"Comin' right up." And she hurried off.

Now the solitary Titan started looking around at the other diners, trying to be as surreptitious as possible. That isn't easy when a third of them are looking back at you … including a gigantic man in the far corner with a long, shaggy mop of reddish-blond hair. Koriand'r immediately colored and dropped her eyes. Fortunately the waitress reappeared at that point and placed her drinks on the Formica table top. She also handed the girl a menu and asked, "Know what ya want?"

"Ah … no, Miss Waitress Person, this is my first time to visit your place of dining, so I do not …" Her voice trailed off as her eyes widened. She pulled the menu up close to her face and gasped, "This is printed in Tamaranean!"

"Izzat so? Need me ta get ya one in English?"

"_**No!**_ Um, I mean, no thank you. This will … will be …" She studied the colorful plastic-covered sheet, her mouth dropping open in shock. "How … but …"

"You need some time ta look it over?"

"These are _**Tamaranean**_ dishes!"

Cocking an eyebrow at the alien, the waitress said, "I'll take that as a yes. Back in a few." And she hurried off.

Carefully, lovingly, the girl examined each dish displayed. _How are they even __**offering**__ Klat'megtra Pudding? The ingredients are not found on Earth! I know! I have tried to get them before. And Tela Soup? And fried Bokh'glor Dumplings? Where did they get the kro'anatch beetles for the stuffing?_ Avidly she anticipated trying several of the offerings, swallowing a few times to keep from drooling on the menu.

Not even five minutes had slipped past before the waitress returned. "Make up yer mind yet?"

"Yes, I have! Please, I would like the Bokh'glor Dumplings, Toasted Reesch'knakh with gray sauce, and … do you really, truly have Klat'megtra Pudding?"

"If it's on the menu, we got it, Miss."

"That, too, then."

"Full portion or half?"

"Ah …" She considered: if the portions they served here matched what she knew how to make, she'd be too full to fly. "um … half, please."

"Right away." And she was gone.

The alien twisted the top off the bottle of mustard, stuck a fat straw into the variegated substance, and took a long pull, swishing the tangy condiment around a few times before swallowing contentedly.

"Mustard? Seriously?"

She jerked and looked up at the figure standing in front of her table. Mammoth had his arms crossed and one eyebrow up as he surveyed her choice of beverage.

"You actually drink it?"

She nodded, slowly, trying to suppress a blush.

"Why?"

"It is a very refreshing drink."

His mouth screwed up in distaste. "Whatever. I don't even like that stuff on a hot dog."

"As my teammate Raven has stated on many occasions, tastes differ." She took another sip and set the bottle down. "You have been to this café before, then, Mr. Mammoth?"

He nodded and used one hand to indicate the chair opposite her. "Mind if I sit?"

"… Uh …"

"Ya know this is neutral ground, right? No fights, no shady stuff."

"That is what Speedy said when he came to the Tower yesterday."

"He's right. This is a good place for some down-time, if ya need it." He tapped the back of the chair. "Can I sit here? And before ya ask, the rules here make that a yes-or-no. If ya don't wanna talk, I'll just leave."

She stared at him solemnly for a moment and then nodded. "If you wish to join me, I do not mind."

"Thanks." He pulled the chair out and sat. Koriand'r frowned at the seat briefly. She hadn't realized it was all that big when she first took the table, but it fit the enormous villain perfectly.

Turning her attention back to the man who was taking up an inordinate amount of her field of vision, she asked, "Was there a specific topic you wished to discuss?"

"Matter o' fact there is."

She waited while he formulated his question.

"Okay, see, you, um, ain't from around here, right? Different planet an' all?"

"That is correct."

"There any more o' your people on Earth?"

"Not at present, as far as I know. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just …" He sucked on the inside of his cheek for a moment and continued, "See, you fight real good."

"… Uh … Thank you?"

"Yeah, yeah, look, what I mean is, there ain't too many people alive can go toe-to-toe with me an' come out on top. But you done it more 'n once." He held out a massive arm. "An' if you weigh more 'n my arm, I'll tear it off an' eat it."

Holding up shocked hands, she begged, "Please, Mr. Mammoth, do not feel that you need to maim yourself on my behalf! I am sure that your arm weighs more than I do!"

"Yeah, see, an' that's my point. You don't look … well, _big enough_ to be as strong as you are."

"Oh. I see." She repositioned herself on her seat and placed her laced fingers on the table. "Well, as you pointed out, I am not human."

"Yeah, but still …"

"Tamaraneans are a more durable race than humans."

"You can say that again."

She frowned. "If you wish. Tamaraneans are a more durable race than humans."

He stared at her for a second and then chuckled. "Yeah, okay, English ain't yer first language."

"… Sorry?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Okay." She looked at him closely for a bit, which started to make him uncomfortable.

"Do I got somethin' on my face?"

"No. Your face appears to be quite clean, in fact."

"Then why the stare?"

"I have a question for you."

"Oh. All right. Shoot."

"You are immensely strong. Our database maintains that you are capable of lifting as much as fourteen thousand kilograms, and that your stamina allows you to work at near-full capacity for many hours."

"Your _database?_ You got a database on _me?"_

"We monitor such information on all members of the H.I.V.E. It is standard procedure. Besides, do you not keep that sort of information about us?"

"Well … yeah, but …"

"Then it seems only reasonable to me."

"… I'll give ya that. But so far ya haven't asked me anythin', have ya? Ya just said I was strong. I knew that already."

"My question is this: given that your success rate in your thieving activities is somewhat low, why do …"

"Low? Whaddaya _mean_, low?"

"I mean typically unsuccessful. By our calculations, the H.I.V.E. Five's success rate for robbery is just over eight percent. You attempted twenty-four robberies in a period of twenty-two months, and were successful in making your escape with the 'loot' twice."

He sputtered, not knowing how to respond.

"I would choose to refer to an eight-percent success rate as 'low'. In any case, that is only the filling in of the background, as Robin would say. My question is: why do you not pursue some other line of work? Surely there exist many opportunities for someone with your abilities that would allow you to earn the money you desire without going counter to any laws."

He looked away and grumbled. She waited quietly.

Finally he sighed and placed his hand on the table, fingers spread. "Put yer hand on mine."

She raised an eyebrow at him, but he insisted, jerking his head toward the table. So she did. Her fully-splayed fingers fit comfortably in the area described by the back of his hand. "You," she observed, "have very large hands."

"I have very large everything. And that's a problem." They withdrew their hands. "Lemme ask ya this, princess: you ever fill out a job application?"

"How did you know I was a princess?"

"… Huh? No, that just … waitaminnit! You sayin' you _**are**_ a princess?"

"I am next in line for the throne of Tamaran, if anything ever happens to my sister. But that is not common knowledge. I wish to know …"

"Shit!"

She frowned. "I assure you, Mr. Mammoth, I am completely serious."

"I _**didn't**_ know you was a princess! That's just a … a … a figure of speech!"

"Oh. I see. I think."

He studied her through narrowed eyes for a moment. "A princess."

"Yes."

"Like, royalty."

"Yes."

"What the hell you doin' on _this_ planet? How come you ain't livin' the high life back home?"

She colored noticeably and turned her gaze to the side. "I would … rather not discuss that."

"Oh, no. You expect me to believe you're some kinda royal deal, but you spend all your time with Bird Brain and his crew of weirdoes instead of doin' your princess thing back on … Tamaran, was it?"

She nodded quickly, still not meeting his eyes.

"Sorry, sister, that don't add up."

She looked up at him then, determination pushing her blush out of the way. "I do not have to explain myself to you, Mr. Mammoth."

"You want a straight answer outta me, I expect one outta you."

She drew a long breath.

Another.

"Very well. I am in exile."

". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Huh?"

"My sister has banished me from Tamaran."

"Your _sister?"_

"Yes."

"She's in charge?"

"Yes."

"Holy shit."

"I think you should probably leave now, Mr. Mammoth."

"Whoa, hold on. I still owe you an answer."

Considering him closely, she nodded. "That is correct. You do."

"What I started ta say was, won't nobody hire me for nothin'. They look at me, they don't see somebody who can do the work o' five men. They see insurance problems. They see property damage and lawsuits. They don't see me, they just see … a big problem."

"But you do not necessarily _need_ to cause damage simply due to your great strength. Surely they can understand that! I face similar challenges each day, as does Superman or any other of the extremely-strong metahumans."

"Hittin' stuff is just easier. And most o' the time quicker."

"That is hardly the correct way to deal with a problem."

"Yeah, maybe. But if ya hit somethin' hard enough, it stops _**bein'**_ a problem."

"Or that simply creates a bigger problem."

He _huffed_ in exasperation. "It's all I know how to do!"

"… Are you saying that being a thief is … is the only …"

"Damn straight."

"What of the military?"

"The Army don't do metahumans. There's a law."

"Oh. I, ah, did not know that."

"Most folks don't."

"Surely there must be _something_ …"

"Look. All I'm good at is breakin' shit. There ain't much call for that on _your_ side of the law."

She pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger, a pose that suddenly struck Mammoth as terribly, terribly cute. He looked away quickly.

"Perhaps I could take that up with Robin. I am very sure he would rather find you a job than fight you. Raven was hard pressed to heal him after you dropped that car on his legs."

"… _**Heal**_ him?"

"Indeed. She has healed us all from time to time, usually after we were called to stop you from taking things that were not yours."

_They've got a bloody __**healer?**__ The witch girl's a healer, __**too?**_

"Mr. Mammoth?"

"Huh?"

"I will be willing to help you in your search for alternate means of acquiring funds."

"… What?"

"I think it would be a very pleasant endeavor. It is not something I have done before, and perhaps if you have one of the Titans to vouch for you …"

"You're forgettin' one pesky little detail, there, Miss Starfire."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. All us H.I.V.E. types have outstandin' warrants. Plus, me an' Jinx have two convictions apiece, an' two more charges for escape."

"Well." She frowned in thought. "That is … a concern. Truly."

"An' I don't much care for jail. That's why we break out."

She gazed off to the side, muttering, "I certainly understand _**that."**_

"What was that?"

She looked back up at him and opened her mouth to say something, but the waitress arrived with her food and her eyes lit up in glee. Mammoth took one look at the three dishes and his hand slammed over his mouth. Eyes watering, he jumped to his feet. "I gotta go." And he ran out the front door.

Dipping her fork into a bowl of viscous, purple glop, she happily twirled it a few times and popped the resulting blob into her mouth, savoring the pungent, vinegar-and-Limburger-like taste. In her peripheral vision she noticed when one of the dumplings tried to roll up the side of its bowl, but a quick stab with her knife impaled it in place. It also impaled the bowl to the table. But she jerked the knife back out with no difficulty, glad to see that the dumpling was now a sort of kebob. She pulled it off with her teeth and chewed in half-lidded enjoyment. _They got the beetles! I don't know how they did it, but they got the beetles!_

A couple of minutes later, the waitress came by to refill her water. "You need anything else, Miss?"

"I will need a regular table here, Miss Waitress Person! I will be here for lunch every day that I am not required to be elsewhere."

"Good to know. Just holler if you need me." And she was off to help someone else.

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_*End Note: And there you have it. Let me know what you think. Any and all are welcome to join the fray. Write your own 'Benny's House' drabble or send me the idea.*_

_Cheers!_


	3. Chapter 3 Raven and Jinx

_**No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem**_

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_*Author's Note: Aaaaand it looks like I just can't leave my favorite pairing alone. My bad.*_

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Part 3: Raven and Jinx

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**{Saturday evening}**

"Hey, Jade! Catch!"

"What? Aiigh!" Cheshire grimaced and picked the bit of rice noodle off her nose. "You are such an ass."

"And," rejoined Jinx, "you love me for it."

"Or, more accurately stated, because that tongue of yours is so talented, I _put up_ with you in _spite_ of it."

"And accuracy is everything, am I right?"

"Maybe not everything, but …" Her voice trailed off as her eyes flicked to her right. Jinx's gaze instantly followed hers.

Raven, in full uniform, was standing beside their table.

Cheshire's eyes hardened. "You know the rules, here, Titan. No fighting. Just leave her alone."

She may as well have been an invisible mute for all the attention the dark girl paid her. The hooded purple eyes were locked on Jinx's pink – and all-too-plainly panicked – ones. Raven slowly extended an arm, turned her hand over, and a thin, silver, serpentine chain hissed into a pile on the table. She tucked her arm back into her cloak and said, in a voice totally devoid of any sort of feeling, "You left that behind." Then she turned a brief glance of – could it be pity? – toward Cheshire, and vanished in a whirl of black mist.

Jinx let her breath go. "Fuckin' hell."

"_What_ did you _do_ to her? I've been hearing rumors for over a week that she's really, uh, ramped up her enthusiasm where fighting is concerned."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Yeah, well. Word is it's because you two had a falling out."

"Hey, it's _not_ my fault! I told her when we started stepping out that I didn't want an exclusive relationship. She's just being … hard headed."

"_**She's**_ hard headed? That's a total laugh coming from you."

Jinx crossed her arms and pouted. "Everybody's a critic."

Cheshire reached across and took her date's thin hand. "You gonna be okay?"

"… Yeah. She'll get over it. Eventually." She chuckled without much humor. "I'll just have to fly under the radar until she does."

##

**{Tuesday, mid-morning}**

Two old men sat at the bar nursing drinks, and two old couples held an animated political conversation at one of the larger booths. Aside from them, Benny's was empty. The dumpy, middle-aged owner called his waitress over and leaned toward her across the bar. "Madge, I'm gonna take fifteen out back. You okay to preside?"

"No worries, Boss." She indicated a small whistle on a lanyard around her neck. "Anything weird goes down, I'll tweet."

He gave her a nod and stepped through a small door, pulling it closed behind him. Madge turned an eye toward the men and the bar, judged their drinks currently sufficient, and wended her way over to the table.

A few minutes later a tall, spare fellow in a black-and-white sweatsuit, with a little dark brush of a goatee decorating his chin, came in and went immediately to the small booth farthest from the door. Madge sashayed over and handed him a menu. "What's yer pleasure, Hon?"

"Your 'Endless Coffee', please. Light cream."

"Comin' up."

The man pulled a thin notebook from inside his suit and scribbled in it until she returned.

Madge set a mug and a small cream pitcher on the smooth surface and poured him about three-quarters of a cup, leaving the coffee pot there in front of him. "You need anything else? Waffle? Eggs?"

He picked up the pitcher and added a generous amount of cream. "Yes, two eggs, please."

"How you want those?"

"Over light."

She cocked an eyebrow at him and fought down a smirk. "Sure thing, Hon. You want some toast with 'em?"

"Yes, that sounds good."

"Lemme guess. Light toast?"

"That would be great, thank you."

"Sure thing. Back in five."

He held the heavy ceramic mug up to his nose and drew a long sniff, then blew on it gently and took a careful sip. He knew that, despite the cream, it would still be very hot, and didn't fancy a burned mouth. Eyes closed, he pursued this activity in quiet pleasure, ignoring the door chime announcing someone else's arrival. After a few more sips he turned his attention back to his notebook, bent over it and wrote in great concentration until Madge returned with his breakfast.

The toast was perfect, just the faintest hint of golden brown on the high spots, and the eggs done exactly as he preferred them. He gave the waitress a hopeful glance and asked, "Would you happen to have any hot sauce?"

"What kind?"

"Oh, I _like_ that question! Do you carry the Tabasco brand chipotle sauce?"

She pulled a bottle from her apron. "This stuff?"

He crowed in delight and eagerly received the condiment. Putting several dashes on the toast, he then placed the eggs on top and cut off a good-sized bite. Chewing in reflective enjoyment, he grinned beneficently at Madge. "Wonderful!"

"Okay, Hon, you just let me know if you need anything else."

"I shall. Thank you. And pass on my compliments to the cook."

She nodded and swished over to the recent arrival, a short girl in black jeans and a purple jacket with the hood pulled up, perched in the booth in the center of the front wall. The instant he caught sight of her, the man felt a distinct chill, but he shrugged it off and continued with his meal.

The girl gave her order to the waitress and then sat back in her booth, drawing her legs up onto the seat; a cup of tea sat steeping in front of her. The man did his best to ignore her, but was finally compelled to sneak a couple of peeks her way. Both times, she looked like she was staring off out the window. He didn't get a look at her face.

Madge came back to his table a couple of times, once to clear away his dishes and another to bring him a fresh pot of coffee. He thanked her and gave her a ten, which covered his food and a decent tip. After stirring up another cup of the aromatic beverage, he rested his elbows on the table and wrapped both hands around the mug, closing his eyes and allowing the warm steam to wreathe his face.

Not many seconds had passed that way before that sudden chill came back. His eyes flew open …

She was standing there, right at his table. Her hands were in her jacket pockets and her hood was still up, but he could see her eyes. He had seen those eyes before. Oh, yes.

His hands began to shake and he abruptly set his mug down. Pointing a trembling finger at the girl, he jabbered, "Y-you stay away! Can't – can't touch me here! Rules! The rules!"

Slowly her head shook back and forth. Uninflected, her voice a complete deadpan, she responded, "Don't want to."

His arm lowered. "Then … why …"

"Didn't know you were here. But I felt you." She looked up, those purple orbs tracing out a pattern in the ceiling for a few seconds. "This is a good place."

"… What?"

"This café. Benny's. It's a good place. Safe. Frustrating at times, but … safe. Do you understand?"

"Uh … maybe."

"Anyway, Doc, I came over to apologize."

That floored him a little. "Apologize?"

"For the way I treated you." Her voice took on a bit more animation. Was that … _**regret**_ he heard? "Yes, I realize you were being a jerk, and were engaged in criminal acts at the time. That does not excuse what I did to you."

He was still trying to wrap his brain around the concept of Raven actually _apologizing_ for something.

"I don't really expect you to forgive me. I haven't forgiven myself yet, so that would hardly be reasonable, now, would it? But I thought you should know that I feel … shame for what I did. I am heartily sorry. I should have maintained better control." She turned to walk away.

"Um …"

Stopping, she gave him a quarter profile in silence.

"I … uh …"

"Yes?"

"I … wanted to know …"

She turned more fully toward him, waiting.

"You, ah, didn't seem to be, ah, very sorry at the time."

"I wasn't sorry. But I wasn't … you could say I wasn't fully in charge of my actions, either."

His face bespoke confusion. "Well … what I mean to say is … Why?"

"Why, what?"

"… You really are sorry, aren't you?"

"Yes." It was a simple answer, and its simplicity reached him. She didn't try to excuse her behavior. She merely expressed regret for it.

"Then is that why you apologized? Did you just want to get it off your chest?"

Regarding him soberly for a moment, she pulled a hand out and indicated the other bench seat. "May I?"

He gave her one terse nod. She sat, clasping her hands together on the table.

"Do you prefer Doctor Light, or just Doctor?"

"These days I prefer 'Arthur'."

Her lips twitched, but didn't quite reach a smile. "Very well. As you know, Arthur, I am an empath. You are also aware that I need to keep a tight rein on my emotions due to the psychic bomb I could drop if things really cut loose."

"I experienced that firsthand, if you will recall."

"Yes, you did. In any case, while you were … let us say 'internally contained', I was in very close proximity to your mind. Your surface thoughts were pretty basic. You were irritated that we'd shown up. You wanted to get away. You wanted to best the Titans – which you did, mostly – so you could receive the prestige that would come along with doing so. At the time I didn't bother probing any deeper. I had a job to do. Then, after you took down my friends and I lost my temper, I … had some revenge to extract."

Perhaps the fact that she said all of this in a totally calm, factual manner, without injecting any emotional baggage into the narration, helped him to maintain his placid demeanor. He was seeing and comprehending her side of their story. It was quite a novel experience.

"Later, however, after I had calmed myself down, and after you were no longer held in my soul-self, I had time for reflection. And looking into your mind, I could not really stay … _angry_ with you."

His confusion must have shown on his face, because she clarified, "It was this way: you had this … deep-seated need to be liked. You wanted friends. At the time, all you had was associates, and many of them either didn't understand anything you did, or they actively disliked you." She gave her head a decisive shake. "No one should have to live like that. But when you saw _**us**_, you saw, not the Teen Titans, primarily, not a team of crime-fighting heroes; no, what you perceived was a close-knit group of _friends_. You envied us."

He looked away. "Yeah. So?"

"So … I know what that's like."

"What _**what's**_ like?"

"That feeling of being terribly alone, of wanting something for yourself that _**everyone else**_ on the planet already seems to have."

"But … you just said … they were your friends."

"And so they are. But I could never be close to them, never show them, demonstrably, how much I cared for them. To do so would be to tempt chaos and destruction. It would put them in harm's way, and it would be my fault. I could not do that."

"Huh." He leaned back against his seat, toying with his now-empty mug. "Okay, so maybe you **_do _**get it."

"And recently … I've, ah, had it brought home to me – in terms I could not misunderstand – what a precious and fragile thing a relationship is. I know it is not the same as your situation, but please know that I can sympathize with your feeling of being alone." She slid out of the booth and slid her hands back into her pockets. "That's all I really wanted to say."

It was then that the door chimed again. Raven was standing between Dr. Light and the door, so he couldn't see who had come in. He had an excellent view of Raven's face, though, and knew instantly that something was up. Her eyes went sad and cold, and she slumped a little. Black mist crept up from around her feet.

A high, feminine voice shrieked, "Don't you _**dare**_ run away again!"

The mist vanished. But Raven didn't budge.

Feet stomped over, and then _Jinx_, of all people, was standing beside the dark Titan, who did not acknowledge her presence. Dr. Light took in the situation at once, eased out of his booth, and walked very quickly out the door.

Carefully, Jinx place a thin serpentine chain on the table near Raven. "I didn't 'forget' it. I gave it to you. It's yours."

Raven's voice was dead. "It was part of a package deal that, you might say, fell through. So I couldn't really keep it, could I?"

Jinx moved around so she could be face to face with the stoic girl, so Raven could see the tear tracks and the mussed makeup, if she happened to look at Jinx's face. Which she didn't. "Look, Rae, I fucked up. I know that."

The purple eyes flicked up and then back down. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Go on."

"I've … got issues. You know that. _Knew_ that. My head ain't screwed on straight. You knew that when we first … you know. Hell, Rae, I rob jewelry stores and then forget where I stashed the damn loot! I rob banks, not for the money but 'cause it's fun! And 'cause … 'cause I'd get to see you."

Raven met her eyes steadily then. "But I wasn't enough, was I?"

"Aw, fuck, Rae, I don't know!" She threw her arms up and started pacing back and forth.

"We're built differently, Jenny. I don't have the … emotional stability to be able to deal with your … little toys."

She stopped. "Toys? The hell?"

"Your peccadillos."

The light came on. "You mean Cheshire."

"And Argent."

"Argent? But that was just … we aren't … she was just a lark!"

"I don't do 'larks', Jenny."

"But …"

"And Shimmer."

"Shimmer's just a friend!"

"Shimmer sucked you off."

"… Okay, she's a _good_ friend. And she thinks I'm cute. But, anyhow, she's with Deathstroke now!"

"Now? She jumped your bones _last week!"_

"I dunno, Rae! She's more random than I am. I can't figure her out."

"And_ I _can't figure _**you**_ out. You seem to be … distraught that I'm upset. Like you can't understand it. Either that or you're afraid of me, and _**that**_ I just can't handle."

"I'm not afraid of _you_. I'm afraid of _hurting_ you."

"Obviously not _**too**_ afraid, since you've been doing it ever since we …"

"But I don't _**mean**__ to!"_

"Does that really make any difference?"

"It _does_ to _**me!"**_

Raven glanced back over her shoulder at the other patrons. All other conversations had stopped as their argument escalated, and the emotional weight was crowding the empath. Turning back to Jinx, who was crying again, she said, "We should continue this discussion elsewhere." Black mist wrapped them both and they winked out. A few seconds later, another little pod of mist surrounded the serpentine chain, and it vanished as well.

Madge glanced over at the space the two girls had occupied, snickered, and shook her head. "Drama, drama, drama." Then a gorgeous redhead covered with a vine-and-leaf motif walked in and looked around, and Madge called out, "Hi! Welcome to Benny's!"

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_*Author's End Note Number One: Well, here's another one in the can. Any specific pairings (or triplings, or whatever) that you want to see, drop me a line.*_

_*Author's End Note Number Two: Shortly following the events in this story comes an awesome tale from 100 Silver Wings: "Second Fiddle in the Scheme of Life", which will comprise Part 4 of the Saga of Benny's Breakfast House. Thanks Hundreds of Metric TONS, Miss Wings! Please go check it out - - - there is a hotlink to the story in my Profile, which I STRONGLY ENCOURAGE you to follow!*_

_Later!_

_Concolor44_


	4. Chapter 5 J'onn J'onzz

_**No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem**_

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_*Author's Note Number One: This chapter's idea came out of a compilation of coldqueen's work. She has written eleven stories for the Titans fandom … and A HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN other stories besides. Makes me feel like such a piker, she does!*_

___*Author's Note Number Two: If you managed to miss it, please go right now and read the excellent tale from .net/u/1725335/100 Silver Wings: **"Second Fiddle in the Scheme of Life"**, which makes up Part 4 of the Saga of Benny's Breakfast House. Thank you again SO MUCH, Miss Wings!*_

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Part 5: J'onn J'onzz

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Koriand'r of Tamaran leaned back in her seat and hugged herself for sheer joy. "Was I not _**ever**_ so very _**correct**_, Mr. J'onzz?"

"Indeed," the Martian agreed, "though I had my doubts." He ladled up another mouthful of _ghekk_, a highly-aromatic stew involving four types of lichen native to his home planet. "It has been … quite some time since last I tasted my childhood favorite." Casting a glance toward the bar, he tried once more to read the mind of this 'Benny', who appeared to be human but who obviously had some connections that your average human could not possibly have arranged. He also had an _excellent_ mind shield. J'onn couldn't even tell if it was psychic or artificial in nature, so solid and seamless it was. The pudgy fellow shot him a very brief glance, almost too short to notice, and went back to polishing the glasses and stacking them in a neat pyramid at the center of the bar, a slight grin now gracing his features. That pulled an answering frown onto J'onn's. As the premier telepath on the planet – possibly in the galaxy – this state of affairs bordered on the intolerable.

His companion's plate was nearly empty. Claiming to still be relatively full from lunch (rare was the day anymore when she didn't take her midday meal at Benny's) she had only ordered a dessert. The collection of small, dark green lumps sitting in a shallow puddle of oil hadn't struck the Martian as very appetizing, but he had done enough traveling not to be surprised at other species' preferences. He knew that humans in general would not be able to sit with him while he ate, given the aroma of his dish, and truly the rest of the dozen or so patrons currently in the café were all clustered at the other side of the room. He appreciated the Tamaranean's tolerance level. She hadn't seemed affected at all.

J'onn tried to summon up the will to care about the other diners' feelings, but the _ghekk_ brought back such poignant memories for him, he was having a hard time concentrating. So he paid close attention to his stew, and enough attention to Starfire that she wouldn't feel insulted.

Three of the small, gelatinous globs remained on her plate when her T-Com beeped at her. With a mutter of, _"Korb!"_ she pulled it out and flipped it open. "Starfire here."

Robin's voice had a tinny effect to it, an attribute of the encryption routine. "Museum robbery. Conner Street and Eighth Avenue. Get there as fast as you can."

"I will be there promptly." One hand closed and pocketed the communicator while the other scooped up her dessert. "I apologize for my speedy departure, Mr. J'onzz, but I have duties to attend to."

"Please, do not worry! I understand." He stood while she left, then lowered himself back into his seat.

Several minutes later the waitress came by and collected his empty bowl. "Hey, Hon, see anything else on the menu you'd like to try?"

He was studying the laminated list, still incredulous that it was printed in his native tongue. "I am not really in the mood for … wait. You have Martian beer?"

"I think so. Benny says we got in a shipment of Olympus Red, but I don't know if …"

"Olympus Red?" Involuntarily his mind scanned hers to make sure she was being truthful. She was. "Yes, please. I would like a decanter of that."

"Be right back." And she swished off. J'onn was no connoisseur of Earthly beauty, but he would have referred to this 'Madge' person, had someone pressed him, as 'well-kept'. She was comfortably into her middle years but still slender and obviously very spry, and her features had that symmetry and regularity that most humans associated with beauty. Her honey-blond hair might have been long, but she kept it up in a tight bun under a hairnet so it wouldn't be in her way. Her eyes, caught between two sets of laugh-lines, were an odd shade of blue-green, not one he had encountered before.

While he waited, he took the opportunity to examine the other patrons. He would not intrude on their thoughts uninvited – not unless he had good reason – but skimming their surface feelings didn't bother him. It was frequently an instructive undertaking. Closing his eyes, he utilized his mind to pinpoint each customer and then tag that person with the predominant emotion being displayed. He wondered idly if Raven ever went through this exercise. Probably not, he reasoned, since she was so skittish about using her powers in the first place. Poor thing. So much potential, and practically all of it might as well be sealed in a bottle.

When he got to the fifth diner, a man sitting alone at a booth-for-two, he paused in shock. Rarely had he ever felt a mind so overcome with grief, guilt, and loneliness. The depth and scope of the man's feelings was stunning. Eyes opening and zeroing in on his subject, the Martian studied him: medium height and fairly thin; coarse, straight black hair that almost reached the collar of his white button-down shirt; skin burnt dark from years under the sun; and eyes that glittered like chips of anthracite. How, J'onn wondered, was this man able to school his face into the neutral, even calm presentation he now wore?

Like a hamster whose water bottle had been filled with Red Bull, a small set of thoughts skittered madly around the perimeter of this psychic devastation. These thoughts gave the man some comfort in an odd fashion. Sorting through them, J'onn sat a little straighter in his seat. The man was contemplating – no, he was _planning_ – to break the law.

Madge returned with his beer in a large, chilled ewer of mottled-green carved stone, and placed the traditional woven-fiber cup beside it. Eyes widening in surprise, J'onn glanced from the cup to the waitress and back.

"Somethin' wrong, Hon?"

Reverently he picked up the cup, cradled it, held it up to the light. "Where did you get this?"

"Case of 'em came with the shipment. Benny said we might as well use 'em. You want a glass instead?"

"No! No, this is … this will serve quite well." He placed it on the formica and carefully poured a small quantity of the frothy, red liquid into it. A few drops leaked through, beading on the outer surface and running down the side.

"Okay, just whistle if ya need anything." And she swooshed off to another table.

He counted slowly to sixty-four, watching as the Olympian Red gradually soaked into the walls of the cup, the grayish-beige fibers darkening to brown and swelling slightly, making the vessel liquid-tight. When the first small bit had been completely absorbed, he refilled it nearly to the rim. Then he gripped it gently, and tossed off the liquid at a draught. The powerful alcoholic substance left a pleasant burn in its wake, and he smacked his lips quietly.

At that point he noticed the dark-haired man walking past, headed for the restrooms, and he realized he wouldn't be able to enjoy the rest of his beer just yet. Observing quietly as the man pushed through the swinging door, J'onn sat for a few more seconds, then rose and followed him in.

Benny's men's room was surprisingly spacious for an establishment of its type. There were two each of the urinals, toilet stalls, and sinks, and both a touch-free paper towel dispenser and an air-knife dryer. One of the stalls was shut. Altering his appearance to that of a Middle Eastern gentleman in his forties, J'onn walked over and leaned against the counter containing the sinks, closing his eyes. Slowly his mouth drew into a grim line. After several moments, he said, in perfectly inflected Turkish, "Just for purposes of clarification …"

There was a gasp and a _thump_ and a clatter of metal on tile from within the stall.

J'onn allowed himself a brief, wry grin. "… I would like for you to explain your reasoning to me. If you can."

A few tense seconds tripped by. The man cleared his throat. "Wh-what are you … what do you mean?"

"I am quite certain that you know the answer to that question."

"… Who are you?"

"Does it matter?"

The silence drew out, ending in a choked sob. "Please just go away."

"I do not believe that would be the best course of action. However, if you can explain your reasons for doing what you are contemplating, I will do as you wish."

There was a sniff, then a pause, then a longer sniff. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Quiet scratching and scuffling noises, accompanied by a few more snuffles, led into, "It's my fault." This was low, almost a whisper. "My fault. I told them to come."

"Elaborate, please."

"My … parents. And my wife."

"They wanted to be with you. Is that so wrong?"

"No! I made them! I sent them the tickets! Mama had never been on a plane before. She was …" He choked again. "She was scared. But I … I said … I told her … it was perfectly safe."

"May I assume you are talking about Flight 3038?"

There was a longer pause. "Yah."

"How long have you been in this country?"

"… F-four y-years."

"And you just recently took and passed your citizenship test."

"… H-how do you know …"

"How long has it been since you last saw your wife?"

"… Would you please just go away?"

"I told you I would do so if you can give me a good reason for your actions. I have not heard one yet."

"I killed them! It's my fault! They could have come by boat, but I just couldn't wait, and my impatience killed them! I might as well have put a gun to their heads!"

"While I can see that your pain is very real, your reasoning is deeply flawed. Those two conditions are connected, by the way. It has been shown that extreme grief makes rational decision-making almost impossible."

The man was crying softly.

"Flight 3038 went down eight days ago. The official memorial was held only yesterday, when it was determined that no remains were recoverable. You have barely had time to process their deaths at all. There is yet much grieving to do."

"What do _**you**_ know about grieving?"

"More than you might think."

"I bet you weren't resp-sp-sponsible f-for killing your f-family."

"Not directly, no. But I was forced to watch as my beloved wife and my only daughter burned to death in front of me; I was helpless to stop it."

There was silence in the stall. J'onn stayed where he was, silent as well.

Nearly a minute passed before the hidden voice asked, "Why?"

"Clarify, please."

"Why were you helpless?"

"There was no way to stop their deaths. The fires came from within them, caused by a plague that was engineered and loosed by my own brother."

Very softly the voice said, "Damn."

"So you may believe that I do know something about grief. It came very close to driving me mad."

"Why didn't I ever hear about this fire-plague?"

"It happened a long, long time ago."

"… You don't sound that old."

"There is a reason for that. But you still haven't given me a cogent argument for why you wish to end your life. And I do believe you are still holding that razor."

A strong spike of apprehension assailed J'onn's mind at those words. "How the hell do you know that?"

"If you would kindly finish your argument, I will tell you."

The man struggled with his words for a few moments. "… They … they'd be alive … I wanted … only wanted to … but they aren't … my fault …"

"And what is your opinion on the afterlife?"

"… What?"

"Do you believe that life, in some form, is eternal, at least to a degree? That the soul or spirit or activating force of your loved ones still exists somewhere?"

"Yes! Oh, yes!"

"Do you believe that they are unhappy where they are?"

"… … …"

"Let me rephrase that. Do you believe your loved ones are in Paradise?"

"… I do. That is, I know they will be. They were good people, very good, very faithful."

"So then death, for them, was brief pain followed by eternal peace, according to your interpretation of your theology."

"… I … ah … well, stated in those terms … yes. Yes, that is … true." His voice took on a slight tone of wonder.

"Then logically, you wish to end your life, not through actual guilt, but because you are lonely. You miss them."

The seconds stretched out with no reply.

"How long had you and your wife been married?"

"… Nine …" he coughed and swallowed, "nine years."

"And you very plainly loved her. Did she love you?"

"Of course!"

"Ah. So then she would want the best for you, wouldn't she?"

Nearly two minutes dragged by before the door opened with a soft click and the man stepped out. His eyes were red, but he saw clearly. He took the few steps over to where J'onn stood, placed the folded-up razor on the counter beside him, clapped him gently on the shoulder once, and walked to the door. He paused there and looked back at J'onn. "You know, I never really thought I would ever meet an angel."

The disguised Martian merely quirked an eyebrow.

"It is good to know that you exist. When you see God, please thank Him for me." And he left.

J'onn gave him thirty seconds to get clear of the café, then made his way back into the dining area, muttering, "I hope my beer is still cold."

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_*Author's End Notes: I want to thank all of you who have read this, especially those of you who left reviews and/or added this story to your Favorites. Please don't stop on my account! The more, the merrier!*_


	5. Chapter 6 Batman and Deathstroke

_**No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem**_

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_[Author's Note: This story was suggested to me by one of my awesome reviewers, _**mastersam**_. Thanks a metric ton of bunches!_

_Insert Standard Disclaimer Here: DC & Co. own the Titans in all their various incarnations. Damn the luck.]_

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**Part 6: Batman and Deathstroke**

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**{Monday late afternoon}**

The shot glass hit the bar. "Do it again."

Benny gave the big man a narrow gaze for a couple of seconds, then shrugged and poured another jigger of spiced rum into the glass. "You should think about slowin' down."

"You have my keys."

"You still gonna hafta walk to th' door, y'know."

The big man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a fountain pen, which he balanced on one fingertip. "Through three cheese trees three free fleas flew. While these fleas flew, freezy …"

"Okay, okay, fine, I get it. Ya got a hollow leg. Sheesh." And he moved to the other end of the bar.

The big man slurped half the rum and then held the glass, swirling the contents slowly and staring into their depths as if in search of answers. He paid no attention when someone took the barstool next to him until …

"You know, I would have pegged you as a single-malt scotch man, had anyone asked."

The hand holding the shot glass stilled. Carefully, the big man's head turned to his left to zero in on the newcomer, a well-set-up older gentleman with white hair and an eye patch. He had recognized him by his voice, but since he was here in his civilian guise, it wouldn't do to give that away. "I'm sorry. Have we been introduced?"

"Oh, I hardly think Bruce Wayne needs an introduction." The other man held up a deprecatory hand, indicating their surroundings. "One does wonder why you're slumming it today, though."

He turned back to the bar. "I have my reasons."

"Ah. As you say."

Benny had walked over. "What's yer pleasure?"

The newcomer responded, "Do you have any single-malts today?"

"Got a Laphroaig 10-year and a Glenfiddich 15."

"Oh, very nice! I'm partial to the Islay distillers. Kindly set up a flight."

"Laphroaig it is." And he shortly had three shots sitting in front of the dapper gentleman.

Bruce Wayne eyed the glasses of potent liquid, which his bar-mate noticed. The other man raised the first glass and said, "I have found the overtones of heather that come from the Islay Island streams produce a superior whisky. Not that there aren't several others nearly as good." He tossed off the first glass and slammed it to the wood, pausing to let the rich, slow burn work its way down his throat.

Bruce downed the rest of his rum and remarked, "Your point about the water is cogent. I prefer Lagavulin myself."

"Not bad, but a shade too peaty for me."

"I like it. Tastes dark."

"Yes, well …" The other man glanced around. No one else was close. "It only makes sense that the Batman would prefer something dark."

Bruce deserved an Oscar for his utter lack of reaction to that statement. He turned with a very slight frown and said, "I beg your pardon? What did you say?"

"Oh, don't worry about it." He gave his hand a desultory wave, as if the topic were trivial. "I deduced the connection quite some time ago. It really was fairly elementary, once Starfire and your former sidekick started stepping out together."

"… Do tell."

"Indeed." He paused to slam the second shot of his flight, sighing in utter contentment for close to half a minute. Bruce waited, not too patiently.

"Your ward, young Master Grayson, attended the mayoral ball two and a half years ago. At that ball he danced for upward of two hours, making the rounds of all the eligible young ladies present. Yet he didn't succumb to any of their considerable charms. Nor did he have any further contact with any of them afterwards, in spite of the valiant attempts four of them made."

"I recall that. And while what you say is true, I fail to see how that can have any bearing on …"

"Ah! But I am not finished."

Bruce just nodded.

"Then, about a year later, the Justice League sponsored a charity dance for the new Steel City Children's Home. Robin was in attendance at that fete, and danced exclusively with Starfire, even though several other young heroines attempted to, ah, cut in."

Bruce said nothing, only staring at the man.

"I was present at both events."

"… _**You**_ were present at the Justice League dance?"

"I was. Not that any of you saw me."

Bruce's brows drew together as he contemplated the wood grain in the bar.

"Richard Grayson's dance style is identical to Robin's. The two young men are of similar height and build and hair color. Master Grayson is still officially unattached, which is beginning to cause some comment in certain of your circles. There is speculation that he may be gay."

"Is there, now?"

"As you well know." He then lifted the third glass and poured the contents down his throat. All was quiet for approximately a minute.

"Is there some coherent reason that you decided to sit here and spin me this tale?"

The other man didn't say anything at first. He tapped the bar and Benny came over. "Yeah?"

"Another flight, please."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Wilson." And shortly three more glasses sat in front of him.

Silently studying his most excellent whisky, Slade Wilson finally sighed and said, "As a matter of fact, there is." He downed one of the shots and leaned back slightly. "That is an unparalleled experience."

"You were saying?"

"Sorry." He sat up a little straighter. "As you know, I attempted to recruit your ward as my apprentice."

"And failed."

"Indeed. Although he had already left your … I suppose I can't really call it an organization since it was just the two of you. Your service, then."

"Yes. So?"

"And now you have a replacement."

"What's your point?"

"I also tried a replacement. It did not go well."

"From what I hear, there are a _**lot**_ of things in your life that didn't go well."

"Too true." He knocked back the second glass and sat still, savoring the taste.

"I am still in the dark as to why you brought all this up."

"I know what you're thinking, and I have no intention or desire to blackmail you."

"Imagine how relieved that makes me."

Slade glanced over at him and chuckled. "You do sarcasm extremely well."

"Just one of many fine services we offer."

The assassin laughed aloud at that.

Bruce tapped the bar. "Another, please."

"As you know," continued Slade, "I made it my goal to take over Jump City."

"A goal you consistently missed." He nodded his thanks to Benny for the rum.

"There may be two schools of thought on that subject. Nevertheless, it was not the unqualified success that I'd hoped for. I gave it several tries over a period of years, and poured all of my considerable resources into the effort, and yet I was foiled repeatedly by what amounts to a group of children." He raised the third glass to his lips and poured it slowly in, swishing the heady liquid around and letting it trickle back. "Incredible stuff. No wonder the Irish called it the Water of Life."

Bruce tossed off his replacement rum. "So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying … that I'm getting too old for this."

"I was under the impression that you weren't exactly aging in the usual sense of the word."

"That is true. Perhaps I should have said that I realized my efforts would better be applied elsewhere."

Bruce turned to face him. "Deathstroke is admitting defeat? Seriously?"

"Defeat might be too strong a term. But I am tired of swimming against the current." He caught and held Bruce's gaze. "Tell me, O Caped Crusader: how do you deal with it?"

"Deal with what?"

"That boy."

That drew a snort from the big man. "I'm hardly the best resource to answer that question. I dealt with him the way I saw fit, and he got tired of it and left. You probably know that we aren't on the best of terms."

"Better than mine."

"You forced him. You threatened his friends."

"Not my shining moment, I'll admit. But he had such potential and it was all going to waste."

"He's not built for assassination."

"Which I finally realized. But it was a bitter pill." He tapped the bar.

Benny plumped down in front of them. "You gents wanna try somethin' a little lighter?"

In chorus they said, "Not really," and then looked at each other with identical surprised expressions.

Benny snorted and held out his hand. "I'll need yer keys, Mr. Wilson."

"Anticipating this outcome, I didn't drive."

"Fair enough. I can pour ya into a cab later." He set them up with their preferred drinks.

Bruce picked up his glass but didn't drink. "So … what? You're getting out of the megalomaniac trade?"

"I suppose you could put it that way, if you wanted to be crass about it. I'm going to concentrate on my core business. Play to my strength."

"Plain old, garden-variety assassinations."

"Oh, sir! You wound me! I haven't been a garden variety assassin in many a year."

"Touche." He took a sip.

Slade raised a glass and drew a long sniff through his nose before tossing it back. "Beautiful. If only the rest of life could be as perfect."

"It's life. By definition it is not perfect." He downed the remainder of his drink.

"That, my friend, may be where I made my biggest error."

"You may be right." He set the glass down carefully. "And I am not your friend."

Slade glanced over at him. "Hm. As you say. It is rather a pity, though, as I don't plan to cross swords with you again."

"If you kill anyone in my town it can't be avoided."

"Ah, but only if you know it is I doing the killing. Besides which, my targets tend to be of the more unsavory type. I'd think you wouldn't mind a little help."

"Some kind of help's the kind of help that I can do without."

That brought a long sigh from the other man. "I suppose it was too much to hope for that you would ever mellow out."

"Your words. But the same might be said of you. What's preventing you from turning your extensive talents to something useful?"

"I like to think that I _**am**_ being useful."

"I meant to society in general."

"So do I."

That brought the assassin a long, contemplative look. "You know … I think you might actually be serious."

"Why would you think otherwise?"

Bruce shook his head a few times. "Different worldviews. Very, very different."

"Oh, I don't know." He picked up the middle glass. "Maybe not so different as you think."

Pulling a fifty out of his wallet, Bruce laid it on the bar. "Thanks, Benny."

The pudgy man gave him a wave. "Don't mention it."

Bruce stood and straightened his jacket. "This has been enlightening."

"Likewise."

"Be careful out there."

"I always am." And he tossed off his whisky as Batman walked out the front door with a sure and steady gait. "Benny? Another flight, please."

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_[Author's End Notes: I fear this was not quite the chuckle-fest that mastersam had in mind. Perhaps he can do a follow-up chapter for some time later, once these two have had a chance to acclimate to their new status. One hopes so, at any rate._

_Let me know what you think, eh?_

_Cheers!_

_Concolor44]_


	6. Chapter 7 Raven

_**No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem**_

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**Part Seven: Raven **

_[Author's Notes: If you haven't guessed so far, I'm placing these little vignettes after "Things Change". Also, some of the participants, as you have seen, can act fairly OOC. Today won't be any different._

_Standard Disclaimer: With the exception of Madge and Benny, all the characters who stick their noses into this story belong to the DC Comics Holy Conglomerate Empire. I don't make a cent off any of it (which is just too bad, considering that I have a wife and two kids in college right now). This is done for my satisfaction and the readers' pleasure, such as it is, and nothing more. Kindly don't read anything else into it.]_

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**{Sunday, 7:20am}**

The parking lot in front of Benny's Breakfast House is marked out to hold twenty-eight cars and one bus. The space for the bus, at the far side of the lot, is usually empty, since there are no routes that go directly past the diner, but a select few professional drivers know about it, and if any of them happen to be in the area and can squeeze in a visit, they will. Just past the bus space is the dumpster Benny rents from the City. On the other side of the dumpster is an open,sandy space about four meters square where a small cinderblock building once sat a long time ago. Nothing will grow there now. It's hidden from both the street and the diner, and a dense strip of unkempt bushes wraps its far side. Raven had discovered this little place that she came to refer to as her "hidden entrance" on her second visit to Benny's. She used it if she came here alone (which was most of the time).

An irregular patch of darkness appeared in the center of the sandy area, and the half-demon rose up from it, stepping out from behind the dumpster and making her way over to her new favorite café. As she considered herself "off-duty", she had foregone her cape and leotard in preference to a lavender-with-black-stripes sweat suit; her hair was tucked up under a white toque. She noted with a slight twinge of pleasure that there was only a single car parked out front.

Madge greeted her as she opened the door. At this time of the day, on this day of the week, there was hardly any traffic. Perched on a stool at the bar, an over-the-road trucker was gorging his way through a large waffle, a three-egg omelet, a small pile of sausage, and a pitcher of orange juice. (On Sunday, thanks to an old "blue law", Benny couldn't serve anything stiffer than ginger ale.) There was also a short, mousey woman in her middle years sitting in the back corner, nursing a cup of coffee. And that was it. Raven favored Madge with a tiny, brief smile and said, "I'll just take my usual table if that's okay."

"Sure thing, hon. You want that tea again?"

"Please." She nibbled her lower lip for a second. "I don't suppose Benny was willing to let me …"

"Nope. He said it wouldn't do ya any good t' know the name anyhow. There's only one source and he contracted for the whole crop."

"… Can he _**do**_ that?"

The waitress shrugged. "Guess so. I'll go get ya a cup."

"… Thanks." And she wandered over to her table.

During the time it took her to drink two slow and soothing cups of truly excellent herbal tea, the trucker stomped his big boots out the door, and the mousey lady had been replaced by an elderly couple in semi-formal wear, out for an early breakfast before heading to their worship service. Madge eased over to Raven's table. "Care for anythin' to eat?"

"I believe I'd like one of those multigrain waffles, if it isn't too much trouble."

"Never any trouble, hon. What kinda fruit you want with that?"

Hopefully, she asked, "Do you have any of that hot blueberry compote?"

"Comin' right up."

As the waitress pushed on back into the kitchen area, a smaller girl passed her. She was carrying a mop and moved over in front of the bar. Something about her made the back of Raven's head itch; the empath sat up and allowed her gaze to fix on the girl.

If she'd been forced to guess, Raven would have said the girl was Latina. Thin and deeply tanned, her hair was dark brown, straight, and fell to the middle of her back. The one slight glimpse she got of the girl's eyes proved them to be dark, but whether black or just deep brown, Raven couldn't tell. As she proceeded to clean up around where the trucker had eaten, she cast a couple of furtive glances Raven's way. By the time Madge came back out with the Titan's order, the area around where the trucker had sat – and indeed, the entire bar – was gleaming clean.

After setting the waffle and the small serving bowl of gently-steaming spiced blueberries in front of the disguised Titan, Madge strode over to the thin girl. "Did ya dust-mop yet?"

"No, ma'am. I was just gonna do it."

Raven's ears perked; there was something … familiar about that voice. _Newscaster English with a slight mid-western flatness. Not Latina, then; or at least not born in a different country. But not from around here._ Something about the girl was pulling at the empath's memory. But with a quick nod to Madge, the scullery picked up her bucket and scurried back into the kitchen area. The waitress surveyed the café, then took a seat on a barstool and pulled a paperback romance out of her apron. Raven had to repress a grin at that, but she just gave herself a shrug, cut off a chunk of the waffle, dipped it deeply into the blueberries, and popped it into her mouth, chewing contentedly.

One of the reasons she chose this particular table was that it gave her an excellent view of the parking lot. She despised surprises (unless they were _really_ good ones, and even then it was iffy) and having someone sneak up on her was among the worst. So she was the first to notice when a sleek, late model Corvette with a metallic green-and-black custom paint job came wheeling in and zipped up to a spot right by the door. Eyes narrowing at the emotions billowing from the hot ride, she watched with a complete lack of shock as Cheshire got out of the car and strode into the café as if she owned it.

The some-time assassin walked up to the bar just as Madge was finding her feet. The waitress greeted her with a wide smile. "Hey, Miss Jade. What can I get ya?"

"Whiskey, neat. I don't care what brand."

"Ooo, sorry, no can do. It's Sunday, ya know. I'll be happy ta get ya anything that don't have alcohol in it, but …"

"Oh, come on! Have a heart! You don't know what I've _been_ through! Nobody has to know!"

She cocked her head to the side. "I'd know."

"But …"

Madge held up a hand. "Sorry, hon, but them's the rules. We don't break the law here, and we don't help anybody else break it either."

Crossing her arms and tapping a foot, Cheshire regarded the older woman narrowly for several seconds. Then she sighed and said, "Coffee, then. Black."

"You got it." And Madge hurried off. She called over her shoulder, "You gonna sit at the bar?"

"… Eh. No, I think I'll take a booth if it's …" She hadn't really looked around the café before that. Now, scanning the place, her eyes fell on Raven. Mouth snapping shut, she slowly turned to face the Titan. Madge noticed the interplay, frowned, and went on into the kitchen.

Raven was leaning back into the corner of her bench, one leg comfortably underneath her, holding her cup of tea. When their eyes met she took a slow sip.

Cheshire advanced a few steps, reducing the space between them to about five meters. "You!" she spat. "Of course. It had to be you. A perfect capper to the Night from Hell."

"And a pleasant morning to you, too," Raven deadpanned.

"Don't hand me that shit! What did you do to her?"

"I am quite sure that I have no idea what you are talking about." Her expression and tone stayed as flat and cool as a granite tombstone.

"Like _hell_ you don't! Why's she acting like that?"

"Who?"

"Don't play stupid! You _know_ who! Jinx!"

The tiniest possible smirk appeared for a second at one corner of her mouth. "Oh, Jinx? Really? I hadn't heard she was missing."

The grinding of Cheshire's teeth would have been audible in the parking lot. "I know _**where**_ she is. But she won't answer her door. She won't even _**talk**_ to me. And I know _**you**_ had something to do with it. So … what – did – you – do – to – her?"

The smirk came back and brought a few friends. "I don't know that I would characterize it so much as what_** I**_ did to _**her**_, as much as what _**we**_ did to _**us**_." She swirled her tea around a few times and took another quiet sip. "It was … enlightening. To say the least."

"_You **bitch!**"_

"No, technically I'm a demi-demon. As far as I am aware, I have no canine forebears."

Cheshire screamed then, and in one fluid motion pulled a slim throwing knife from somewhere and flung it at the empath. But the knife encountered a patch of inky mist and simply vanished, the mist instantly dissipating. Raven, who had never so much as blinked, took another sip of her tea.

A gruff voice said, "That'll be enough o' that!"

Benny had come up behind the assassin without either of the girls noticing him; he gripped her by the upper arms and lifted her some ten centimeters off the floor. Marching to the door, he said, "Ya get one warning. This is it. Try anything like that again, and you won't ever be welcome here. Now, scram. Yer on a week's probation." He set her down next to her car, turned on his heel, and walked back inside without another glance her way. Coming over to Raven, he asked, "You okay?"

"Mm-hm. No worries."

"Need anything?" Surveying her plate, he noted that about half of the waffle was gone. "More tea?"

"That would be lovely, thanks."

He just nodded in answer and headed back to the kitchen, cocking an eye at the Corvette as it peeled rubber out of his parking lot.

Raven noticed then that the probably-not-Latina girl had returned. She had a wide dust mop with her and proceeded to scoot it along the floor. Her eyes stayed on the mop, head down, shoulders hunched together slightly.

The elderly couple got up then and slowly walked over to Raven. The wife said, "Are you unhurt, young lady?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm fine."

The husband said, "I thought I saw that unpleasant young woman throw something at you."

"She missed. Don't worry, though, Benny took care of it."

"That's good to know." The wife patted Raven's shoulder. "You have a blessed day, dear."

"Thank you. You, too."

They smiled at her and left. Raven went back to surreptitiously studying the thin girl. There was just something about her that nagged at her empathic senses. But since she couldn't put her finger on it she determined to ignore it, and turned her attention back to her meal. Benny had pre-heated the serving bowl for the berries, so they were still nicely hot, a delightful counterpoint to the now-cool waffle.

Madge brought her another cup of tea, which complemented the food well. Raven finished her repast about the same time that the girl finished sweeping, and watched as the dust mop was taken outside and shaken furiously for a minute. Fortunately there was a light breeze, so the dense cloud of dust trailed across the parking lot and vanished in the distance. It was while watching the girl inspect the mop – frowning in concentration and allowing the tip of her tongue to slip out one corner of her mouth – when the pieces clicked into place for the Titan. She nearly dropped her teacup.

Numbly she watched as the girl came back inside and headed into the kitchen. Ramping up her empathic field to a high gain, she studied the ebb and flow of the younger teen's emotional state …

_[[ relief … self-doubt … satisfaction … self-doubt … fear … gratitude … self-doubt … ]]_

Raven nodded. _Yes, always with the esteem issues. How did I not see that immediately?_ Her tea forgotten, she got up and floated over to the kitchen door, gaining enough altitude to peer through the small, round glass.

Benny was staring back at her. He pushed the door open, and she zipped back out of the way. "Somethin' I can help ya with?"

Raven dropped to the floor, but caught herself with a measure of grace. "Ah … well, um … yes, you see … can I … may I talk to, uh, your, um …"

"Leah?"

"… Beg pardon?"

"That's her name: Leah. The hired help?" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the girl, who was not immediately visible. "You wanna talk to 'er?"

"Um … yes. Yes, I do. Very much."

"Uh-huh. Well, she's off at nine."

She blinked at him a few times, consulted her watch, and said, "I'll wait."

"Suit yerself." He returned to the kitchen.

And wait she did, going through a few more cups of tea as an hour crawled by. The 'hired help' did not make another appearance. As nine o'clock drew near, Raven began to fidget. People had been filtering in with increasing regularity and the café was about a third full. She wanted to keep track of where this 'Leah' was, but with so many minds between her and the girl, she had to rein in her empathic field or risk being overwhelmed. Still, she thought that she could feel her, just a little, moving around in the back.

So when that tiny, faint spark suddenly seemed to be coming from the parking lot, Raven's head jerked around. She jumped up and all but flew out the front door.

The brown head bobbed above a puffy quilted jacket of beige-and-forest-green rip-stop nylon, just the sort of thing one might wear on a weekend camping trip to the mountains. She trudged along, nearly to the edge of the lot when Raven caught up with her.

"Terra?"

The girl startled badly, almost tripping herself in her haste to spin around, and gave a sharp gasp. "What … what'd you call me?"

Raven offered her a tiny smile. "It's okay. I just … wanted to talk."

The brown eyes began to shine with tears, the lip to quiver.

"Oh! Terra, I'm sorry. I'm not … please don't worry. I won't tell anyone if you … you know, if you would rather I didn't. I just wanted to … talk with you."

The younger girl drew the back of her hand across her eyes and sniffled, staring at Raven. Finally she asked, "About what?"

"About you. And whether there is anything I can do to help you."

She really _did_ break down at that point, the deep sobs coming quickly. Hesitantly, Raven closed the distance between them and took her in a light embrace. In return, Terra nearly crushed the breath out of the Titan's lungs with her fierce hug.

"Uff! Uh … Terra … want t'go … back inside? You hungry?"

Her brown eyes now rimmed in red, Terra leaned back so she could look Raven in the face. Maybe she was searching for some kind of deceit, or maybe she was just unsure of her own answer, but after long moments of study she gave her head a tiny nod. "Talk. Yeah, we … we can talk. Not hungry, though. Benny … he, uh, makes sure …"

"I understand." She put her arm around the other girl's shoulder and they walked slowly back to the café.

. . .

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_**(to be continued …)**_


	7. Chapter 8 Raven continued

_**No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem**_

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**Part Eight: Raven (continued)**

_[Author's Notes: Sorry for leaving you guys hanging like that, but I thought that was probably the best place to break off._

_Standard Disclaimer: DC Comics owns the Titans. They and their representatives and assigns are the only entities legally entitled to make any money from said Titans. That means I don't have any financial stake in this story. I write this because my Muse will hit me hard enough to leave a mark if I don't. As they used to say about the Peace Corps, it's the toughest job you'll ever love.]_

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**{Sunday, 9:12am}**

. . . . . . . Her brown eyes now rimmed in red, Terra leaned back so she could look Raven in the face. Maybe she was searching for some kind of deceit, or maybe she was just unsure of her own answer, but after long moments of study she gave her head a tiny nod. "Talk. Yeah, we … we can talk. Not hungry, though. Benny … makes sure …"

"I understand." The empath put her arm around the other girl's shoulder and they walked slowly back to the café.

Madge, who never seemed to miss anything, had seen Raven dart out after 'Leah', and had put two and two together. (The answer she got was 4.61, but then she _was_ working with insufficient data.) At any rate, she saved Raven's booth; and as she had expected, the girls went right back to where the dark Titan had been sitting. Madge went back to the kitchen for more tea.

Terra curled up across from Raven, a tight knot of unease that practically glowed in the empath's mind. Placing her hand as casually as she could on the table about midway between them, Raven asked, "Brown?"

"… The hair?"

"Actually I meant the eyes. Hair dye, anyone can come by. But you aren't wearing contacts. And I don't feel any magical aura coming off you."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Um … Benny helped with that."

"… _Benny_ did?"

"Yeah."

"Huh. Benny's a good guy …"

"You have no idea."

Raven cocked her head over, studying Terra's face. "… but I didn't know he could perform cosmetic surgery at that level."

"It wasn't surgery. He … well, he had Madge make me this drink."

"… A drink? Like a potion?"

"I guess. But the next morning I woke up and my eyes were brown."

"How'd you even _meet_ Benny?"

She turned her gaze away, her cheeks tinging red. "Um …"

"That's okay; if you don't want to tell …"

"It's not really my … I mean, I kinda-sorta promised that …"

"Don't worry about it. It's not as if I don't have any secrets of my own."

That pulled a tiny smile from the thin girl. "Thanks. There's a lot of … see, I've been trying to stay under the radar. The fewer people who know about me, the better."

"Does that include Gar?"

The suddenly-wide eyes, accompanied by the tremor that passed through the girl, gave Raven all the answer she needed. Nevertheless Terra shook her head hard. "Please don't tell him! He thinks I'm … you know, not really me. From the school."

"Right. He told us about you being at that school. But he wasn't convinced that you'd forgotten everything, and is still firm in that conviction."

"… I was afraid of that."

Raven's brows drew together the tiniest bit. "Are you **_that_** afraid of how he'll react?"

She only huddled up closer to herself.

_Okay, bad topic for conversation._ "How'd you get into that school, anyway? Don't you have to have proof of a physical address?"

"Um … yeah." Terra seemed relieved to be talking about something else. "That was kinda tricky."

"Where were you living?"

She wouldn't meet Raven's eyes. "In a homeless shelter."

Madge came up then and set Raven's tea in front of her. Getting Terra's attention, she asked, "Leah? You want anything?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"Great. Just holler if you need something." And she hurried off.

Raven cleared her throat. "And that hoity-toity private school was okay with you living like that?"

"They didn't know. I had a … a, um, fake address."

"Do I really want to know how you pulled that off?"

"Prrrrrrrobably not."

That almost made the empath dimple. "So are you still going to that school?"

"Yeah. For now, anyway. It's ... kinda hard. I don't know if I'm gonna wash out or not."

Raven slowly swirled her tea as the cogs clicked in her brain. "Is there one particular subject that's giving you trouble?"

"Uh ... two, really. Pre-calculus and Chemistry. And Chemistry's a problem mainly because I don't have a good handle on the math." Raven noted that she had a lock of her hair gripped tightly in one fist and was worrying the end of it as she spoke. "See, I ... well, you already know I wasn't ... uh, usually welcome for very long at the different places I stayed when I was younger. My powers ..." She stopped and then sighed deeply. "Well ... School wasn't really a priority. And let's say I'm not a natural at math."

"Are you in a study group?"

She dropped her eyes. "... um ..."

"Would you like to be?"

Those dark brown orbs came up again, this time filled with uncertainty. "Huh?"

"Well, it so happens I know rather a lot about math. If you want, I can be a sort of tutor."

Eyes growing very wide, Terra squeaked, "Really?"

Raven gave her a confident nod. "For whatever reason, probably due to Robin's anal-retentive methodology, crime in Jump is way down; either most of the criminals have left for greener pastures, or they simply aren't committing as many crimes. We have a measure of free time on our hands most days. I would have plenty of opportunity. If you want."

Slowly, unblinkingly, Terra's head bobbed up and down a few times. "I would ... like that. If you don't mind."

"It'll give me something with which to occupy myself." She did smirk then. "And the old saying about idle hands being the devil's workshop goes triple for someone who's already half demon."

The smile that bloomed on the girl's face, and the wave of intense gratitude that splashed over with it, brought a warm glow to Raven's chest, and threatened to creep up her cheeks as well. _Such a little thing,_ she thought, _to bring such a profound reaction._ Terra leaned forward and grabbed Raven's hand. "That would help so much! I got a scholarship thing so I could go there, but if my grades slip I'll lose it, and then ... well, you know." She sniffled and wiped at her eyes with one sleeve. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

A new and menacingly guarded voice said, "Am I interrupting something?"

Raven's head whipped around to focus on a pair of light fuchsia eyes ... eyes that were beginning to frown in a way that gave her a sudden unease. "Jinx!"

She wore a short skirt of black denim, a white tank top, and over that a long-sleeved, loosely-knit sweater in a wide-striped pink-and-black pattern that hung off one shoulder. Her long, candyfloss hair trailed down her back in a thick braid. The bad luck charm stood there with her hands fisted on her hips, darting her gaze between Raven and ... "So, you gonna introduce me, or what?"

"Sorry! Jinx, this is Leah ..." turning to the girl, Raven said, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your last name."

"Featherstone."

Raven blinked once, fighting down a grin. "Featherstone. Okay." Glancing back at Jinx, she continued, "Leah Featherstone. She works here at Benny's. She's a student over at the Murakami School. We've been talking about a couple of her classes, and I agreed to tutor her in math."

Jinx's expression didn't change much.

Raven patted the seat beside her. "Sit with me?"

After a hesitation that was so brief it might have been missed, Jinx did, scooting in next to her girlfriend, who planted a quick kiss on her cheek. That seemed to mollify the hex caster, and she gave Raven a pretty smile.

Terra's eyes grew round. "Are ... are you two ... like ... _together?"_

In tandem, the young women answered, "Sure are." Then they looked at each other and Jinx giggled.

Terra's shock was evident. "I didn't know you swung that way! I thought you and Ga- um, Beast Boy were supposed to be an item."

"Rumor, innuendo and hearsay. If it ever existed, it was pretty one-sided." She hugged Jinx closer. "I never even knew I could _**have**_ a real relationship until this little minx inserted herself into my life."

"Heh!" snickered Jinx. "You said 'inserted'."

"Oh, hush, you!"

Jinx caught Terra's eye. "So I guess you weren't putting the moves on my girl, then?"

"... Ew!"

Raven snorted. "Thanks a lot."

Terra brought both hands up in a 'warding off' gesture. "No, it's not ... I mean, you're pretty and all, but ... ew. I like guys."

"Fair enough."

Jinx said, "You look kinda familiar. You sure we haven't met before?"

"I – I – I don't think so."

Tilting her head in concentration, Jinx said, "You also don't lie worth a shit. Where'd we meet? You're kinda cute. I ought to remember."

Terra seemed to shrink in place. Frightened eyes sought Raven's.

The empath looked between her and Jinx a few times and then extended her hand again. "Jinx can keep a secret if it's important. Keeping her pants on is another thing, but ..."

"Hey! I resemble that remark!"

Turning a small grin on her girlfriend, she continued, "... but, if you want to tell her, it'll be okay."

Jinx gave Raven a calculating look. "So you _**did**_ know her already."

"I never said I didn't. You just assumed."

"... Humph. Always with the semantics." Glancing back at the terrified girl, Jinx said, "I don't bite. At least not unless you want me to."

Raven punched her arm, pulling another giggle from the pink-haired girl.

"So, spill. Where do we know each other from, and how do you know Rae?"

Terra's eyes ranged around the café. It was about half-full by this time, and there were diners in the booths on either side of them. She began to tremble.

Jinx offered, "Hey, if it's such a big deal ..."

Raven said, "Let's try this." She held her hands out, palms cupped together. A small sphere of inky darkness formed there. She muttered a few words in a language that had been dead for several millennia, the ball grew larger and then more transparent, and then they were surrounded by what seemed to be a minute haze in the air.

Jinx chuckled, "You have _got_ to teach me that one!"

"What, and make thieving even _easier_ for you? I think not."

"Maligned!" Jinx cried, the back of one hand melodramatically held against her forehead, "I am maligned!"

"You are hilarious, is what you are." Raven turned to Terra. "No one can hear us now. And I guarantee no one will pay the slightest attention to us. You may speak freely if you wish."

"... And you think it'll be okay? Isn't she, like ... a villain or, or something?"

"I'm part-time these days, girly," responded Jinx. "Usually pitch in with the hero stuff. I only – ah, keep the skills sharp now and then."

"And what," asked Raven, "am I supposed to do if we get called out on robbery and it turns out to be you?"

"If it's just Bird Brain and the Three Moogs, it's not a problem. Besides which, I'm more careful than that. No longer into the drama of a standoff or a fight."

"You? Not into drama? Did the Cubs win the Series or something?"

"Ha-ha. Funny woman. Anyway, I don't, ah, practice my art in Jump anymore. You guys aren't the only ones getting better. Since the Good Pee-pul of Jump got rid of that last asshole police commissioner, and they actually put someone in the job that was interested in the public welfare instead of takin' bribes and bangin' his secretary, it's been hot times in the ol' town for second-storey men. Not interested, thanks just the same."

"You aren't the first one I've heard that from."

"And besides which, I fell into something a lot more lucrative than robbing jewelry stores."

"Oh?" One of Raven's eyebrows went up. "And what would that be?"

"Security verification."

"... Beg pardon?"

"Guy from Wells-Fargo looked me up; wanted to know if I'd be willing to test the security on a new office building. We talked around the issue for a while, and he whips out a contract. Like he knew I'd be interested. How-some-ever, I took it and ran it by a couple guys I know, and they said it was legit. So I met with the bigwigs at Wells and now I'm a contractor for 'em."

"... You never cease to amaze me, Jinx."

"Hey, everybody needs a hobby. They've got five new facilities lined up for me to check out, and I get eight large per. That's more than we ever cleared on any job I worked when me and Giz and Mammoth were together, and I don't even have to split it. Or worry about laundering it." She kicked a leg up onto the bench. "It's really kinda cool."

"So have you started this ... new thing yet?"

"Did the first building yesterday afternoon."

"... _**Yes**_terday?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And you didn't think _**I'd**_ be interested in this development?"

"We had, ah, other things to talk about last night."

"Yeah." Raven nodded to herself. "We did, didn't we? Okay." She turned her attention to Terra, who had followed this interplay silently. "So, it's up to you if you want to let her into the club or not."

"... Well ... if you think it's all right ..."

"I do. But the important thing is whether _**you**_ do."

She sat up straight then, and scooted to the center of the bench. "... Okay. But ... would you tell her?"

Another grin was successfully repressed. "Sure." She glanced at Jinx. "You don't remember her clearly because she's got a top-drawer disguise going."

The pink eyes came together in a frown. "Oh? Really?" She leaned forward, studying Terra's face. The other girl blushed and stared at the table. Finally Jinx shrugged. "It's a good one, then. I mean, yeah, you tickle the ol' memory, but that's all." She jerked her head at Terra and asked, "So, who is she?"

"Terra."

_blink-blink_

"Jinx? You okay, there? Look like you're trying to swallow a golf ball."

"Terra."

"Yep."

"The ex-Titan."

"She's _**still**_ a Titan, as far as we're concerned."

Jinx gave her an odd stare and then examined the smaller girl again, at length giving a nod. "Okay. I can see it now. But your eyes are brown. That really makes a big difference, when they were sky blue before. How'd you do it?"

"Um ... Benny. He ... he-helped." She swallowed, very nervous under that close scrutiny.

"Huh. So you swapped that 'Nordic Warrior Maid' look for 'Sultry Latina'." She nodded again and leaned back in her seat, appropriating Raven's arm in the process. "I like it. Works on you. But you ought to do something about your name."

"What do you mean?"

"Leah Featherstone? Come on. Leah Featherstone has auburn hair, a light dusting of freckles, green eyes, a British accent, some killer curves, and works as an assistant antiquities curator at a museum in Cairo."

Terra's mouth fell open. "Who ... bu-wha ... how ..."

Jinx had to laugh at her expression. "No, I don't really _know_ anyone by that name, but you can bet I can imagine it in a Gothic novel just fine. Point is, you don't look _**anything**_ like a Featherstone."

"Huh. Well ... then what should ..."

"Alessa D'Amato."

"… Huh?"

Raven spoke up. "Jinx, sweetie, you're messing with her head."

"But she could totally pull off the Italian-heiress thing, dontcha think?"

"Possibly so. But the school – and all the people she knows there – know her as Leah. She can't just announce a new name out of the blue."

Jinx pouted. "But Alessa D'Amato is a pretty name!"

"Indeed it is. But so is Leah Featherstone."

"Yeah. It is." Jinx brightened and gave Terra a thumbs-up. "I guess it'll have to do."

Raven noticed Madge looking around like she was confused, and dispelled the zone of security from their booth. It was only seconds later that Madge spotted them and came over. "Hey, girls! I saw you when you came in, Miss Jinx, but I didn't see where you went. Must be getting' to where I need glasses." She whipped out a pad and pencil. "You want anythin' to drink? Or munch on?"

"Yes, ma'am! I'd love a glass of your pink lemonade. And bring one for Leah, too."

Terra started. "… Oh … but I …"

"Hush, girl," Jinx admonished. "You'll take your drink and like it."

Madge chuckled. "Better listen to her. She can get real mean."

Terra settled back and allowed a grin, the first one Jinx had seen, to blossom. "Don't I know it."

"How 'bout you, Rae?"

"Another cup of tea would be perfect."

"Be right back." She gave them a wink and hurried off.

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**[A/N: I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed or sent me PM's about this ... well, I hesitate to call it a story since it's really just a series of vignettes. How about 'collaborative work'? That'll do. 100 Silver Wings has already done Chapter Four, and poeticjustice8012 has contributed his own addition to the mix (check out the hotlinks on my profile), so it's not just my viewpoint anymore.**

**I'm going to TRY to give Benny's place a rest for a while so I can work on 'Triad', and another story that isn't going to be published on this forum. Hopefully that won't take too long. Then I have to finish the last four chapters of 'Gone Wylde', preferably before my posting schedule gets me to the point where I left off.**

**In other news, my hometown (Ringgold, GA) is still closed to general traffic while they continue to clean up in the wake of the tornadoes. I'll be taking a trip over there in a couple weeks. And I just heard early this morning that Joplin, MO took a major bunch of damage from ANOTHER twister: half the city destroyed and over 90 people killed. That's much worse than what happened in Ringgold, but then our population is just 2,800.**

**Also, please wish me luck on an invention that a colleague and I are going to be testing next week. If the efficiencies all work out the way we think they will, I'll be going to work for myself, making these things full time before too much longer.**

**Happy Reading!**

**Concolor44]**


	8. Chapter 10 The Contest

_**No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem**_

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**Part Nine: The Contest**

_[Author's Notes: Yes, it has been a while, hasn't it? I've been working on the next bit of 'Gone Wylde', and those chapters tend to be very, very long. My apologies, but I absolutely, really, truly MUST finish that story._

_Even so, this little bit demanded to be written, and I can only ignore such 'requests' from my Muse for so long._

_And thank you, THANK YOU, **THANK YOU** for the kind reviews!_

_Standard Disclaimer: DC Comics owns the Titans. You know it. I know it. Anyone paying attention knows it. So just remember that all this extraneous, extra-canonical, extra-ridiculous writing is being done purely for the joy of the exercise. Kinda like jogging, only a lot more fun, and without the sweat or the pollution or the threat of dog attacks.]_

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**{Tuesday, 8:35pm}**

"Miss Madge?"

The waitress turned and took the three steps to Garfield Logan's table. "Yeah, Hon, what's the need?"

Beast Boy gestured around to the others at the table: Speedy, Red-X, Cyborg, Mammoth, and Kid Flash. "We wanted to know if we could make some, uh … special orders."

"Ya need a different menu, Hon?"

"Well … Star said you had Tamaranean food here. And Martian food, too."

"Yeah. So? You want a Martian menu? Gotta warn ya, some of those dishes'll give ya the trots."

"No, but … but could we just order, like, off the top of our heads?"

She whipped out her notepad. "I'll see what I can do."

"Well, um … see …" He glanced at his companions, who were all grinning sheepishly. "We've kinda got … well, a bet."

"… A bet?" A frown crept quietly onto her face. "What kind?"

Red-X jumped in. "We all wrote down an order on these sticky-notes." He held up a small yellow square. The others copied him a few seconds later. "And we wanted to know if you could make these dishes."

She held out a hand. "Lemme see 'em." The notes were dutifully passed to her, and she quickly shifted through them. "Yeah, I don't see any problems here."

Kid Flash blanched under his mask, his mouth dropping open. "Seriously? You can make that stew?"

"With the centipedes? Yeah, no worries. If you wanna eat it, we can pretty much make it."

Kid Flash slumped back into his chair, terror and nausea playing tag in his eyes. He fished a ten-spot from an inside pocket, folded it twice and flipped it across the table to a grinning Red-X.

Madge pulled out one of the slips and squinted an eye at it. "Gonna have to substitute somethin' for henbane in this sausage, though. You guys are all human – um, mostly human, that is – and it's toxic to humans." She nodded. "He can use mugwort. That won't taste much different, and it won't kill anybody."

Beast Boy blew a quiet raspberry at Red-X and held out a hand. The thief, grumbling, dropped the ten into it.

"I see that they're numbered," added Madge, who noted these byplays but didn't comment. "That how you want 'em brought out?"

"No," answered Beast Boy, eyeing Kid Flash uneasily. "That's how we keep track of which one is which."

"They all need to come out at the same time," offered Cyborg, who looked nearly as apprehensive as the speedster.

"Okey-doke. No problemo, mis amigos." And she sashayed over to the kitchen entrance.

The various heroes and villains eyed each other warily. Mammoth cleared his throat, a sound reminiscent of a poorly-maintained diesel engine, and asked, "You guys really think this is a good idea?"

Cyborg gave him the eye. "You wanna back out?"

"No! No way, man. Anything you frails can eat, I can eat. But … what if it, y'know, makes ya sick? Bird Brain'll be all over your ass if you can't …"

"Let me worry about that. I've got a titanium stomach. Ain't _nothin'_ you could come up with that would give me a problem."

Mammoth's hand curled into a fist on the table. "We'll see about that, won't we?"

"See about what?"

As one, the boys' heads whipped around to focus on Raven, who was suddenly standing beside their table, her hooded eyes pinning them all to their seats. She surveyed the group and asked, "What do you think, Jinx?"

The pink-haired meta-human stepped out from behind the dark Titan and gave the guys a wry once-over. "I think any plan _this_ bunch could come up with should be avoided on principle."

"No argument there. However, it does make one curious." She took a step toward the table. "What, precisely, are you up to?"

Five sets of eyes turned toward Speedy, who seemed to wither slightly under the stares. He gave Raven an anemic grin and said, "Well … heh-heh … see, uh, me and Mammoth got into a …"

"Mammoth and I."

"… Huh?"

"It's subjective case. You should say 'Mammoth and I' instead of 'me and Mammoth', which would be objective case. But in either usage, Mammoth's name should come first." She waved him on, giving Jinx – who was cracking up over the boys' expressions – the evil eye. "Pray do continue. You and Mammoth got into … something."

"Oh! Right. An argument. Right. We were arguing over who could eat more, and then it got, um, sort of … out of hand."

Raven looked around at the assembled faces with an expression of disapproval. "So the six of you are having an _eating contest?_ How puerile can you get?"

In chorus, they said, "Huh?"

Their deer-in-the-headlights faces sent Jinx into further gales of laughter. Raven shook her head, took her girlfriend by the wrist, and guided her over to a table at the other side of the café.

Beast Boy leaned over to Cyborg and mouthed, "What's 'puerile' mean?"

The big guy shook his head, opened a port on his left arm, and typed for a minute while the rest of the boys waited. He frowned, shot Raven a dirty look (Jinx blew him a kiss) and said, "It means immature or juvenile or infantile."

"Oh, well," said Beast Boy, relaxing somewhat. "She calls me that all the time."

"But she don't call _**me**_ that!"

"Guess you're just in the right place at the right time."

Cyborg subsided into mumbling, casting dark looks Speedy's way, until they all sat up straight, staring at Benny, who was walking up to them with the sticky-notes in one hand. He leaned against the table and said, "Evenin' boys."

There was a quick round of greetings. Red-X asked, "Is there something wrong?"

"Just wantin' ta make sure you guys didn't write down somethin' wrong." He looked at one of the pieces of paper. "This sauteed buzzard, f'r instance. Number 3, it is. Who ordered it?"

Mammoth's hand went up.

"Yeah. The marinade has dill pickle juice, chocolate chips, kelp, ground sardines, lime jello, capers, oysters, and pineapple salsa." He cocked an eye at the enormous meta-human. "Izzat right?"

"Yes, sir."

He raised an eyebrow, nodded, and said, "And this one. Number 5. Who wants that?"

Red-X raised a finger. "Me."

"Well, I got all the peppers. Just want ta be dead sure you were serious."

"Serious as a heart attack, sir."

"Yeah, well, you just might _**have**_ one after eatin' this mess." He pulled out another slip. "And Number 1?"

Beast Boy acknowledged ownership.

"Yeah. You know the fermented rutabega will lose most of the alcohol content during cookin', right?"

"Oh. No, I didn't know that."

"You won't be able to taste any difference, though, around that limburger-and-catnip stuffing. And you want that on a bed of twenty-year-old kimchee with pickled herring and Hollandaise sauce?"

Gar stole a glance around at the others, who were giving him horrified stares. "Uh … yeah. That's right."

Benny shook his head. "Gonna have to get some bigger exhaust fans for the kitchen." He headed for the back, tossing over his shoulder, "It'll be about half an hour. Oughta get some appetizers." And Madge re-appeared then, ready to take their drink orders.

After she left, Speedy took off his hat, placed six identically-folded pieces of paper into it, and held it out in the middle of the table. In a deafeningly ominous silence, each of the boys pulled one of them out, leaving the last one for Speedy. They looked at him. He looked back. He swallowed nervously, and opened his paper, whereupon a rather melodramatic sheen of sweat covered his face. He whispered, "Dear Lord," and dropped his head to the table. The rest of them quickly opened their own papers, and there followed a series of groans and gasps and swearing.

* * *

_somewhat later . . . . . . ._

"Okay, boys, here's your food." Madge had a huge, round tray that she set down on a nearby table. Significantly, she wore elbow-length rubber gloves, a clothespin on her nose, and goggles over her eyes.

"Okay, who's got Number 1?"

Speedy raised a none-too-steady hand. He had ordered an appetizer of cheese-stuffed jalapenos, and was hoping past hope that they would be able to drown some of the taste of the horrid thing Madge placed in front of him. Mammoth and Cyborg, who were sitting to either side of him, clapped their hands over their mouths and turned watering eyes away.

"Number 2?"

Unhappily, Beast Boy signaled her. She passed him a plate of … well … 'Number 2' is rather what it looked like, though it was really a sort of vegetable sausage made entirely out of various mis-matched rinds. The dark-grayish-brown sauce drenching the thing smelled a great deal like rotting meat. It was actually made of a rare tropical flower that used that smell to attract the flies that pollinated it. Gar fought down his gorge and stared at it the way a condemned man stares at a guillotine.

"Number 3?"

Red-X made a small, dejected motion and received the oddly-marinated gizzards of buzzard. He raised the lower part of his mask, then practically slammed it back in place, gagging audibly.

Madge gave him a sympathetic look and announced, "Number 4?"

Kid Flash sighed and called it over. He had received his own dish back: lutefisk, giant centipedes, and tree grubs baked on a bed of nettles, with a sauce of fermented shark meat. The boys tried valiently to come up with some alternative for breathing, most of them growing quite purple in the attempt.

"Number 5?"

This one went to Mammoth, who regarded the plate with dread as it came to rest in front of him. A mixture of Caribbean and Indian ultra-hot peppers had been fried in pepper oil, then dredged in powdered pepper. They were served in a tureen of boiled onions and capsaicin extract. Mammoth was certain that the vapor curling up from the dish resolved itself into shadowy little Death's-heads.

"And, Number 6 for you, then." She set a large soup bowl down in front of Cyborg. The green-and-purple sludge that rested there resembled some of Starfire's more unusual attempts at making pudding, only it smelled worse. This dish, the bastard child of a strung-out hippie and a drunk demon **(Concolor: hey, isn't she eating over on the other side of the restaurant? Muse: SMACK!)** was the result of combining a stew of okra, arrowroot, pokeweed and hagfish slime with raw pureed tree frogs. He stared at the revolting slop as sweat beaded on his upper lip.

"Good luck, boys. Not that I think it'll help." And Madge made a quick exit.

The six looked at their 'food'. They looked at each other. Cyborg cleared his throat. "Uh … Mammoth? You, uh, wanna trade?"

"I …"

"No!" stated Speedy forcefully. "You eat what you chose. Those are the rules. If you can't eat at least half of it, you cough up a C-note."

Mammoth picked up his fork and gave the death-peppers a few half-hearted stirs. When he pulled it out, the tines were showing signs of pitting and the metal actually gave off a tiny streamer of smoke. He tossed it back into the bowl with a disgusted sigh, pulled a hundred dollar bill out of his belt pack and let it flutter to the table. "I'm tough. But I ain't stupid." He leaned back, pushed his chair a bit farther from the table, and crossed his massive arms. "I _do_ wanna see if the rest of you are stupid, though."

Cyborg leaned over his dish and took a sniff, then jerked back and fought off a gag. Shaking his head and blowing the obnoxious odor out his nose to try to get rid of it, he said, "I'm with Baran. This was a bad idea." And he contributed two fifties to the center of the table.

Red-X's own hundred dollar bill followed a few seconds later. "Don't know why I ever agreed to this," he grumbled. "I don't normally do stupid things."

Beast Boy chuckled. "You wanna see if you can make book on that?"

"Shut up."

Kid Flash sighed in defeat. "Hell, I never really thought they'd even _**have**_ the damned centipedes. I can't eat bugs!" He pulled a wad of bills out of somewhere, slammed it down onto the table, and vanished in a wash of air.

Mammoth, Cy, and Red-X looked over at Speedy. Red-X said, "This was your idea. You feel like admitting it sucked as bad as the food?"

With a look of absolute determination, the archer picked up his fork and speared the nearly-jellied rutabega, which promptly erupted in a short squirt of noxious cheese. The fetid combination made everyone else blink and turn away. He brought a tiny bit of the stuff up to his mouth, but his lips (having more presence of mind than his brain) refused to part. After a few wavering seconds he gave up. The fork clattered back onto the plate and a short stack of ten dollar bills plopped down onto the pile of money.

They all looked over at Beast Boy, who was eyeing his 'sausage' with undisguised horror. Speedy said, "Come on. Give it up. You won't be eating that monstrosity any time soon. Just pay up and we'll figure out which charity gets it, since none of us will. Maybe there's a local animal shelter or something."

"Animal shelter?" Beast Boy blinked at him, his eyes going wide. "_**Animal**_ shelter?"

"It was just a thought. We could give it to the Red Cross. Or the library or …"

The changeling shouted, "Animal shelter!" And then … he grinned.

Cyborg said, "I don't like that grin."

Red-X said, "I don't _**trust**_ that grin."

Speedy said, "I'm going to regret that grin."

Beast Boy laughed. He tilted his chair back and looked at the ceiling for a few seconds, then nodded. Morphing into a large boar, he quickly dispatched his plate full of food. Then he morphed into a tiny fly and spent a moment cleaning himself off. Finally he morphed back into his resting form, gathered the money into a neat stack, and gave the others an ironic salute. "I may run myself out of the bathroom for a couple of days, but I'd say five hundred bucks makes it worth it. Thanks, gents!"

He trotted over to where Raven and Jinx were sitting, relaxing with after-dinner tea, and said, "Hey, girls! I'm feeling flush. Wanna take in a late movie? My treat, and you pick."

Jinx gave Raven a look and shrugged. "Anything on you wanna see?"

"There's a new drama that just came out last Friday. It's about an autistic woman. I heard it was really good."

"Promise to let me nibble your neck?"

"Always."

The pink-haired girl bounced up from her seat, grabbed Gar's arm, and said, "What are we waiting for? C'mon, girlfriend, do your thing." Whereupon the three vanished in a whirl of black mist.

Mammoth got up. "See you mooks around." And he lumbered out the door.

Cyborg quickly followed him with an abbreviated, "Later."

Red-X smirked at the archer. "You did say you'd spring for the tab on this little contest."

"… Yeah. I did, didn't I? Yet another bad decision."

"Be sure to leave a nice tip. They've got the clean-up job from Hell ahead of 'em." He thumbed a switch on his belt and teleported away.

Speedy surveyed the mess on the table and sighed, pushing himself back. He stood and went over to the bar, pulling out his wallet. _Some days it just doesn't pay to chew through the leather straps in the morning._

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**_[A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this one, although I did have to skip one meal. Just didn't have any appetite, you know?_**

**_Please leave a comment. I'd like to know how strong are the stomachs of my Wonderful Readers.]_**


	9. Chapter 11 The Wilsons

_**No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem**_

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**Part Eleven: The Wilsons**

_[Author's Notes: My Muse simply WILL NOT leave me alone about Benny's Breakfast House. This bit was prompted by a request in a review from XxPhoenix FlightxX. It may not (probably won't) be the sort of thing she had in mind, but I can only write what the characters ask of me._

_Standard Disclaimer: Oh, get real. If I owned the Titans, they'd still be making new episodes. And it would NOT be safe for children. Or work.]_

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**{Thursday, 7:10pm}**

The white bishop slid over to queen's knight four and took a pawn, and the thin man leaned back in his seat, a ghost of a smile drifting across his lips. "Your move."

Slade Wilson studied the board, his previous frown growing much darker. After the lion's share of a minute ticked by he said, "I make it mate in five."

"Four."

One eyebrow rose marginally, the single eye zeroing on the old man across the table. "Four?"

"Definitely. You won't be able to move your knight. That will force the rook."

"… Damn." This came out very softly. Slade nodded once and tipped his king over, then looked at the other man with grudging respect. "You're making a habit of this."

"Just call me an idiot savant." He indicated the board. "Another?"

"I think two rank embarrassments in one evening is quite sufficient, so, no." He picked up his Irish coffee and drank the rest of it in three swallows.

Arthur Light shrugged and collected the pieces, folding the case around them. "I suppose I should be heading home, then."

"Your strategy is unorthodox."

"Beg pardon?"

"Your endgame doesn't look like any of the standard master techniques. Parts of your intermediate strategies remind me of Kasparov, but only superficially. You've perfected the invisible attack. You launched three in a row that last game that I just barely avoided, only to maneuver me into a triple hostage situation." He studied his opponent. "How many moves ahead do you see?"

"I really have no idea. I play as much by instinct as by plan."

"That _**should**_ have made you a better villain."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? Maybe chess doesn't translate to the real world very well."

"Possibly not." He glanced up as Madge parked herself beside the table.

She grinned at the men and nodded at Slade's coffee mug. "Hey, Hon. You want a refill on that Irish?"

"That would be lovely. Thank you, my dear."

She snickered at his endearment, gave him a wink, and said, "Be right back."

Arthur tipped his head toward her retreating back and asked, "Is she taken?"

Slade swiveled his gaze around to lock onto the other man. "Excuse me? Taken? Why in all the hells there might be would I be interested in _**that**_ information?"

"I don't know. But _**she**_ seemed interested."

"You're hallucinating. Besides, I do believe that Benny would put my much-debated immortality to the test if I were to, ah, fish out of his pond as it were."

"Maybe so. Maybe not." He slid out of the chair and stood, snagging the case, gave the master assassin a brief, two-fingered salute, and left.

Madge returned with his coffee, put a couple of small containers of half-and-half beside it, and went over to greet a couple that had just walked in. Slade studied her for a second, then dropped his eyes. _Why he would think I'd inflict my decidedly unpleasant life on a civilian is beyond me. He should know better than to ask such a stupid question._ That brought a smirk to his face. _Maybe __that__ is why he was such an inept villain. Maybe he just __doesn't__ know better._

It was at that point that Slade Wilson realized who had just entered the café and was standing there, gesticulating at Madge: his son, Joseph, along with a very petite girl who sported long, pink hair and what looked suspiciously like antennae.

_I will sit very, very still. I am already in the far corner. If I maintain an air of nonchalance, if I do not look at him, if I do nothing to call attention to myself, he should not see me. He will take his seat, he will order his food, he will talk with that creature in which he seems to be interested. When he is distracted, I will leave, quietly, unobtrusively, and he will never …_

The best laid plans, as the saying goes, often plop straight down into the crapper (okay, okay, the old maxim doesn't say that _**exactly**_, but that's what it means) so it's not surprising when off-the-cuff plans shatter like fine crystal against the hard tiles of reality. Madge had conducted the couple to a table just this side of the bar, only three removed from Slade's own. As Joey was holding the chair for his date, their eyes met.

The young man grew quite stiff, though his expression did not change. Slade gave him points for that. After perhaps two and a half seconds, Jericho's gaze turned back to his date as she smiled her thanks for his assistance. He started to move to her right, but hesitated and then came around to the chair on her left, presenting his back to his father. He pulled a standard menu out of the little rack at the edge of the table and placed it between them, then started signing to the girl.

Slade sighed. It was no more than he expected. It had, after all, been his plan to alienate the boy in order to spare him the difficulty and despair that would inevitably come from association with the world's premier assassin, and that plan worked out all too well. Their last two interactions had been … unpleasant. Slade could, of course, have killed him, had he been so inclined. Joseph certainly had tried to kill _him_. But killing wasn't the goal. Odd as it may seem to some, Slade Wilson _did_ have a conscience, of sorts.

He opened the two creamers and poured them into his coffee, took a slow, appreciative sip, and settled into his chair. If Joey wasn't in the mood for an altercation, so much the better. He would finish his coffee in peace and leave.

That was when the next group came in: the local Teen Titans, minus Robin. Slade considered them narrowly and then smirked. Doubtless, the brightly-garbed boy detective was hard at work in his ops room, looking for ways to trap him. He wished the lad luck. He'd certainly need it.

Beast Boy saw Jericho and the girl, and waved. The girl waved back and motioned them over. As they trooped closer, Raven spotted Slade, and stopped. She was in her standard leotard-and-cape getup, and the hood covered her head, so only those intense, amethyst eyes and the tip of her dainty chin were really visible. She rose a few centimeters and floated over to his table. The other Titans, who had clustered around Jericho's table, saw what she was doing and then it registered who was sitting there. Starfire gasped. Beast Boy seemed to … _enlarge_ somewhat, his fangs lengthening just enough to notice. Cyborg's right arm began making clacking sounds as he struggled to counteract his reflexes.

Raven stopped about a meter from the assassin and regarded him coldly. "Robin was right."

"And about what, precisely, was your team leader correct?"

"That you'd be here. That's why he didn't come with us."

"I am no threat to anyone here, least of all him."

"Indeed. The only threats you present in this place are to his peace of mind and his tooth enamel."

Slade chuckled. "I fail to see how his shortcomings are my fault."

She didn't respond to that right away, only staring at him. He returned the stare, with change. He suspected that she was trying to see into his mind, but he knew as well as she did that his psyche was much too disciplined to allow it. When she finally spoke, it was in that utterly calm, completely self-contained tone that many people mistook for a lack of interest. "You have been careful. I will grant you that. Your recent activities have centered on other cities, other countries, even. Robin is convinced it is a smoke-screen, and that you still have Jump City in your sights. I disagree. I think that, for your own reasons, you have decided not to pursue your former goals of domination and rule."

He waited for her to say something else. When she didn't, he offered, "An interesting assessment. And what does your analysis tell you about my rationale these days?"

"I think you've gotten smarter."

That wasn't really what he was expecting to hear, and he took a moment to formulate his answer. "It may be that you have gotten smarter as well."

She held his gaze for another few seconds, then turned and floated over to the Titans. Slade studiously ignored them, sipping his coffee in silence. When he finished, he left two twenties on the table and made his way unhurriedly to the exit. He was about to touch the door when a small hand landed lightly on his arm. He whipped his head around.

It was the pink-haired girl. Up close she was really quite attractive, with wide, blue eyes, a slightly up-turned nose, and a flawless, pale complexion. In a low voice, she asked, "May I speak with you, Mr. Wilson?"

He hazarded a glance back at the table. Every one of the Titans was staring at him intently. But they could no more harm him here than he could them. He shrugged. "I cannot conceive of a topic that we might discuss that would be of interest to me."

"Perhaps not. But I would like to _tell_ you something, if you don't mind. Sort of to … satisfy my sense of propriety."

This girl intrigued him. He held out his hand. "Slade Wilson."

She shook it. "I'm Kole."

"Just Kole?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well." He held out an arm toward the side of the restaurant away from the others. "Would a bit of privacy hurt?"

"Not at all." She led him to a table against the other wall, not too far from a large group of elderly diners who were blissfully unaware of the unfolding drama.

Once seated, she began without preamble. "I've been living away from 'civilized' society for a few years now. I won't go into the details, but … Joey is the reason I'm not still underground. He's a great guy."

"Imagine my gratification."

She gave him a small, secretive smile. "Yeah. Imagine." She cleared her throat. "Before I left, I had a reasonably happy childhood. Mom and Dad and a dog and a house in the suburbs. Pretty standard. My Dad's a scientist. Bio-chemist. Works for a big pharma outfit. Nothing fancy, but he enjoys it, and it pays the bills, as he says. Even after I dropped out of society, I managed to get a message to them every few months. They were really worried at first."

"And why wouldn't they be?"

"Yeah. But they understood."

"I, however, do not. Why did you leave?"

She bit her lip. "Because not all scientists are nice people."

He had to laugh at that. "I doubt that truer words have ever been spoken. The bulk of the scientists I know … well, let's just say that I didn't feel out of place in their company." He indicated her hair. "May I assume that is your natural coloration?"

"… It is."

"May I also assume that your hair color is not the only unusual aspect of your makeup?"

"That would also be true."

"Very well. You felt you needed to hide to avoid being exploited in some fashion."

She nodded. "Good guess. Anyway, when I was little my Dad used to tell me stories of when he was my age. One of them was about this really mean teacher he had in the fifth grade, Mr. Schuemacher. The teacher picked on him, and made fun of him in front of the class."

Slade frowned. He had not the first clue where this story was going. "Was your father slow? I thought you said he was a scientist."

"No, he wasn't slow. He was really smart. He said the teacher had it in for him, and tried to get him to fail. He would give Dad a different test from the ones he gave the rest of the class. He made Dad do all sorts of really hard projects. He had to memorize the names of all the bones in the body, and draw an accurate skeleton. Once Mr. Schuemacher gave the class a test where they had to match up the names of all the states with their capitols. But Dad's test was a sheet of paper with an outline of the country on it. Dad was supposed to draw in all the states, and label them with the state name and capitol."

Slade's eyebrow rose. "Indeed. And did your father ever complain about this treatment?"

"No. See, Mr. Schuemacher was really … I dunno, subtle about it. He'd make it seem like Dad would have to be really stupid not to be able to do the work. He made Dad memorize the Periodic Table, too. It was all really hard, but it just made Dad mad. He made up his mind that this teacher wasn't going to get the best of him."

"That's rather advanced work for the fifth grade."

"Yeah."

"I'm sure this is all quite fascinating, but I very much fear that I have no idea why you are telling me this."

She persisted. "He was complaining about that to Mom one time. See, I had a teacher who singled me out because of my hair. I liked my hair and I didn't want to dye it. The school had a rule against 'unnaturally-colored' hair, see, and the teacher wouldn't believe that my hair was naturally pink. We had to go all the way to the county school board to get permission to keep it this way."

Slade blinked slowly. "Okay. So?"

"Dad was talking with Mom about it later, and brought up Mr. Schuemacher. He said it was just like that. But Mom laughed at him and said it was nothing of the sort."

That _did_ confuse the assassin. "Why did she take that position?"

"She asked Dad about the regular school work the other kids were doing, and he admitted that it was really easy and that he was bored with it. She told him that Mr. Schuemacher wasn't out to get him; he was trying to keep Dad engaged in school by making it challenging. He could see that Dad would have lost interest if the only things he had to do were the simple stuff the other kids were doing." She giggled. "You should have seen Dad's face when he realized that Mom was right."

She sat there, an expectant grin on her face, while he mulled over what she'd told him. "Very well. What is the point of your story?"

"You're Mr. Schuemacher."

"… I beg your pardon?"

"It's okay. I won't tell Joey. He needs to figure it out for himself. But he's told me all about your relationship, and what happened with Rose, and how you two have fought so much. You're, like, the most awesome assassin ever, right? But you didn't kill him. Instead, you did everything you could to drive him into association with the Titans. And now he's one of them, and he's happy and safe, and he's getting training, and … well …" She reached over and patted the back of his hand. "I just wanted to say that I understand … and I appreciate what you did."

He pulled his hand back and stood. "Do not patronize me, young lady."

The grin hadn't budged. "Wouldn't dream of it."

She watched him as he walked quickly out the door. Jericho was at her side before it stopped swinging, his fingers in motion. _'What did he say to you? Did he make any threats?'_

"Oh, no, Joey, it's all right. We just had a nice little chat, that's all." She stood. "I'm starved! You said they'd have some cocopolinos, didn't you?"

The mute Titan gave her an unconvinced look, but shrugged and signed, '_They have anything you want. At least, that's what Gar said.'_

"Let's do it, then!"

. . .

. . .

. . .

* * *

_[Author's End Note:_

_I've never written anything involving either Jericho or Kole before, and had to do a little research on them before embarking on this piece. They are fascinating people, once you get to know them._

_Kole in the cartoon has hardly anything in common with Kole from the comic, so I pretty much dismissed the comic version. If that gets anyone's back up, I apologize. But I had to pick one of them, and I liked the cartoon Kole better._

_I don't believe the Jericho from the cartoon ever went nuts, either. The comic version did. Went completely off the deep end: homicidal, vindictive, the whole nine yards. Needless to say, I like the cartoon Jericho better._

_I thought this worked pretty well. So did my Muse. I may be writing more Jeri/Kole in the future.]_

- Concolor44


	10. Chapter 12 Benny

_**No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem**_

. . .

. . .

. . .

**Part Twelve: Benny**

**[Author's Notes: Well, I finished up the most recent chapter of Gone Wylde, so I'm celebrating a little with another installment of the weirdness that is Benny's Breakfast House. Some of you have been asking about Benny himself. Some of you, as a result, may be interested in what goes on here, then.]**

_Standard Disclaimer: The Teen Titans are a wholly-owned subsidiary of DC Comics, Inc., and Warner Brothers (last I heard). Any connection between them and this story is purely illusory and should not be construed as canon in any way. The only remuneration the author gets for this work is in the form of reviews, for which he holds his readers in the deepest gratitude._

. . .

. . .

. . .

**{Wednesday, 8:20am}**

Garfield Logan stopped a couple of meters inside Benny's Breakfast House and made a 'come here, please' motion with a crooked finger. "Don't be such a fraidy-cat, O Fearless Leader! He ain't here. I told ya, he never comes here on Wednesday morning."

Robin strode past his green teammate with a supercilious glance. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Beast Boy."

"Sure ya do! Ol' Slade. That's why you didn't come with us when we met up with Jericho last week."

Robin gave him a stiff stare, but didn't press the issue. Madge came up to them at that point.

"Hey, boys! Just two this mornin'?"

Gar shook his head. "Nah, there's a couple more oughta show up pretty soon." He peered around at the nearly-full café. "Man, you guys are stuffed today!"

Madge jerked a thumb at the small blackboard set up by the door. "Wednesday special: all ya can eat tall stacks, just five bucks."

Both boys' eyes sparked at that bit of information. Gar rubbed his hands together. "Man, oh, man, is Cy gonna be stoked about that!" He turned hopeful puppy-eyes on Madge. "Is it _**really**_ all you can eat? Like, with no limit?"

"Far as I know. Benny put the sign up, and he's pretty good about sticking to the letter of the ads." A chuckle escaped before she added, "If he wasn't counting on teenage-boy-hero appetites, he'll just have to suck it up, won't he?"

At that point, Cyborg and Kid Flash pulled up outside in the T-Car. Gar ran out to them, waving his arms and chattering a mile a minute. After a few seconds, the newcomers' faces lit up with glee and they followed the animated shape-shifter back inside at a trot.

Madge scared up a table that would hold them all – putting Cyborg on the side away from traffic – and noted which kinds of pancakes each hero wanted. She pointed first at Gar. "You want the tofu-buckwheat-sesame pancakes with real maple syrup, am I right?"

"Yes, ma'am, an' keep 'em comin'!"

Turning her eye to Kid Flash, she said, "Blueberry with whipped cream and fresh strawberries on top?"

"Whoa! How'd you know?"

"You just looked like you wanted that." To Robin she said, "And you look like a banana-pecan man to me."

He considered her suggestion, smiled, and nodded. "And if you have butter-pecan syrup …"

"You got it."

"Thanks, Madge."

"Aaaaand, Cyborg. You've liked everything we've ever served you – hah! Except for that glop you made up for your little contest."

"Hey, I didn't make it up! That was …"

Kid Flash laid a hand on his arm. "Can we please _**not**_ talk about that night? Please? Like, ever?"

"Yeah, okay. Wasn't much fun for _**anybody**_." He and Wally both shot dirty looks at Beast Boy, who gave them a superior smirk in return. "Well, _**almost**_ anybody."

Gar held up his hands. "Hey, not my fault if you couldn't 'stomach' the situation."

Wally groaned, "I did say please, Beast Boy."

"Sorry, sorry! But he handed me such a perfect straight line …"

Quickly, the speedster banged on the table. "Cyborg! Tell the nice lady what you wanna eat!"

Grinning, he glanced up at Madge. "Whole wheat with wheat berries, and that awesome spiced-apple thing you do on top."

"You want it with whipped cream and the caramel drizzle?"

"Yes, ma'am! All the way!"

"Sounds good. Now … whatcha want ta drink?"

After she took their orders and left, the four young men immediately fell into an animated discussion of the soon-to-be-released crossover game, Mega-Monkeys XII: Urban Invasion.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The steady stream of customers created a steady stream of work for the bus-staff. Benny had three on the payroll at present, two high-school-age boys in addition to 'Leah Featherstone', and one or more of them could always be seen in the background, gathering used plates and flatware or wiping down the tables. They were as ubiquitous as the rest of the furniture, and typically garnered about as much attention.

'Leah' made a point of staying as far away from the table full of teenage heroes as she could manage. That wasn't too hard since one of her coworkers, a thin mousey-haired kid named Jim, was star-struck nearly blind by the presence of the Titans. He did everything he could to wangle work near their table, and 'Leah' was more than happy to oblige. The other busboy, Mike, was taller, had longish dark hair and blue eyes, and didn't talk much.

However, Fate (as has been observed more than once) is a witty little bitch, and just loves to use coincidence to muddy the waters. Case in point …

The hero-boys were into their third set of tall-stacks (fifth in Vic's case) when, in the space of twenty-five seconds, the patrons at all three of the tables adjacent to theirs got up to leave, and Jinx and Raven walked in the door. That left 'Leah' no way out of working right beside the Titans. Her hair was put up in a snood to keep it out of her way, which she figured would help to disguise her since she'd never worn it any way but loose during her sojourn as one of the team. She hoped against hope that none of the boys would be willing to leave off their feast in order to study her.

Hopes, however, frequently die a quick and painful death. She knew Raven had seen her, but the stoic girl was studiously _**not**_ looking her way, for which she sent her silent thanks. Jinx, on the other hand, grinned widely and bounced over to the boys' table. She gave Cyborg's head a quick scratch and said, "Hey, Stone! Whatcha know good?"

###

_They were all too preoccupied to notice when a tall, muscular blonde man came in the front door, glanced around the busy café, and strode purposefully over to the bar._

###

Victor glanced rapidly between Robin, Jinx and Raven (who had come up more slowly to stand behind her girlfriend). The demi-demon, characteristically, evinced no reaction either way; Robin's face, on the other hand, darkened noticeably. Victor finished chewing his bite, took a quick swig from the extra-large glass of milk in front of him, and said, "Ah … heh … h-hi, Pinky. Just … y'know … havin' some breakfast."

"Well, hey, you eatin' breakfast makes sense, this bein' Benny's _**Breakfast**_ House, an' all." The girls were in civvies: Raven was togged up in her lavender sweat-suit and a black beret, while Jinx sported black leather pants and a white hoodie, thrown back to show off her long, luxurious, pink hair which made a sizable puddle in her hood. They wore identical ankle-boots of soft gray suede.

Turning his angry glare from the smirking villainess to his at-least-temporarily-ex-teammate, Robin drew in a long breath and opened his mouth. But Gar laid a cautioning hand on his arm and cleared his throat, causing the boy to whip around Gar's way. The changeling soberly shook his head and said, "We talked about this." Caught slightly off-guard by the move, Robin swallowed, nodded slowly, and turned his attention back to his pancakes, ignoring the girls as if they weren't there.

_###_

_The tall, blonde man caught Madge's eye and nodded once toward the door to the kitchen. A perturbed expression dominating her face, she hurried into the back._

_###_

Gar cast an apologetic look in Raven's direction and gave her a 'what can you do?' shrug. Her lips tightened slightly, but no other response disturbed her calm.

Jinx let it all slide off of her like water off a Teflon duck. She gave him a wink, blew Robin a kiss (which took his face from Enhanced Alert, or light pink, to DefCon2, or deep red) and led Raven over to an empty table-for-two.

His teeth grinding ominously, Robin gritted out, "I'm gonna find out what that pink bitch is up to if it's the last thing I do."

Kid Flash, who had notably taken no part whatsoever in these interactions, said, "She's just bein' Jinx, Rob. She can't be anything else. I should know."

_###_

_Jim the Busboy finished his table and carried his tub full of dishes back to the kitchen. He passed very close to the blonde man. As he entered through the wide swinging doors, Benny came out._

_###_

Masked eyes turned Gar's way, the glare dialed up to 'thermonuclear' level. He spat out, "Being _**herself?**_ By putting the team's future at risk? Trying to break up the Titans? She stole Raven. _Stole_ her! It's the biggest coup a thief could ever _dream_ of!"

'Leah' overheard every word, and bit her lip in frustration. She'd seen firsthand how happy the dark Titan was with her cotton-candy squeeze, and felt quite sure that no thievery had taken place. It was all mutual. She tried to concentrate on gathering up the dishes without dropping anything.

_###_

_Benny slowly walked over behind the bar to stand opposite the blonde man, who merely watched him with a knowing grin. The restaurateur crossed his arms, looking none too happy._

_###_

With a placating gesture, Kid Flash tried to calm Robin down a little. "I know how it might look to you, Rob, but if you'll remember, she didn't _want_ to quit the team. That was _your_ ultimatum. And even then she still shows up whenever you guys have to do battle with some kooky criminal."

"But she doesn't participate! She just … just hangs around!"

"Didn't she keep you from getting stuck with a bunch o' shrapnel a few days ago?"

Robin crossed his arms and sank slightly in his seat.

_###_

_The blonde man said, "Hale and well met, Haniel."_

"_Raguel," Benny's response was couched in rather sour tones. "One might ponder what business you have here?"_

"_Oh, you know," he said in an off-hand manner, looking around the café with interest, "just checking out how your little experiment is going."_

"_As you can see, it is doing quite well. Thank you for asking." But the thanks in his voice was razor-thin._

_###_

'Leah' hurriedly placed all the dishes in her tub, set it on one of the chairs, and wiped down the table as quickly as she could while doing a passable job.

"And she healed me, remember?" added Gar, helpfully (he thought). "When that giant rabbit of Mumbo's clobbered me? I had a broke arm." He waved the limb in question in front of Robin's face. "It ain't broke now!"

_###_

_Raguel nodded. "Yes, well, that is as may be. You know how the Higher Ups can be mad for detail, especially Michael. And you have not filed any reports in over a month."_

"_That is because, as I just mentioned, everything is working smoothly. We have had no incidents here that I could not defuse. And the dialog coefficient is up sixty-eight percent. Why only last Sunday …"_

_###_

Redirecting his ire at Beast Boy, Robin suddenly stood and flung his arms wide, about to launch into a rant, when the back of his right hand smacked straight into 'Leah's' tub. It went flying, and she let go with a loud gasp.

Time seemed to be interested enough to slow down and watch the mini-disaster unfold.

There were six plates, four serving platters, and eight small dishes of various design in the tub, along with all the accompanying flatware, eight glasses, and nearly two dozen used paper napkins, not to mention quite a few bits of uneaten food. As soon as it left her hands, the tub began a slow rotation that would help to launch its contents toward a nearby table. Two elderly ladies, who were mostly deaf and had missed the foregoing action, were sharing pictures of their brand new grandchildren, blissfully unware of the porcelain doom headed their way. Robin, who realized what he'd done, instantly spun and reached, trying to catch the tub before it ejected its payload; he could see he would be too late, and opened his mouth to warn the unwitting targets. Beast Boy launched himself toward the path described by the falling mess, but knew also that he would not be in time to stop it. That didn't stop him from trying, though. 'Leah', for her part, was frozen in shock from several angles. There was no earth ready to hand for her to exercise her will upon, and even if there had been, she wasn't sure she should. But the ladies might be hurt! But then the Titans would see her, and maybe recognize her! But if she didn't do something Benny might get mad! But …

Indecision is a killer.

However … the plates seemingly vanished in mid-flight, along with all the other projectile detritus that might have ruined the ladies' day. And then Kid Flash was standing in front of 'Leah', holding the tub out to her. "Here ya go, miss." Casting a reproving glance at Robin, who was still in the process of regaining his balance, he added, "Please excuse my friend. He's having an off day."

Beast Boy stepped up to her. "Are you okay? He didn't hit you, did he?"

With the eyes of all four Titans on her now, 'Leah' went into full-out panic mode. Pupils dilating, she began to shiver and nearly dropped the tub again. This time it was Gar that caught it for her. "Heh! Better let me carry this back for you." He shot Robin a severe look as he ushered the girl toward the kitchen, balancing the tub in one hand. "You probably ought to go … uh, go sit …" He sniffed the air. Then he turned fully toward her, his eyes narrowing.

_###_

_Raguel held up a finger. The noises in the café ceased. Diners paused, forks lifted halfway to mouth, or in the middle of a swallow. No one moved. No one could. He glanced at Haniel. "That is one we have been keeping an eye on."_

"_Terra? So have I." He indicated the time-stopped diner and inquired, "Is there any particular reason for this, ah, over-reaction? You must realize that Garfield Logan already knows that she is alive and free of her stone prison."_

"_True, true. But her importance in the upcoming Conjunction cannot be overstated. It would not do for her to panic and flee."_

"_She will not. She has been befriended by Trigon's daughter. That one will see to her safety, both physical and spiritual."_

"_Indeed? That is excellent news! With tidings of such glad import, why did you not feel it needful to report?"_

"_Primarily because I know what I am doing and I would very much appreciate it if Michael were to realize this fact. He does not need to micro-manage my experiment."_

"_Ah-hah! I see … well, you know how he is. The military will do that to you."_

"_Be that as it may, I do not need my hand held." He nodded toward Terra. "Nor does she. She is more resilient than you know."_

"_I am pleased to hear that." With the slightest exercise of will, he re-started time …_

_###_

Beast Boy leaned in closer and looked the frightened girl in her eyes, obviously not believing his own. He licked his lips and whispered, "Terra?"

She took a step back … and bumped into Raven. The dark girl placed a protective hand on Terra's shoulder, sent Gar an irritated look, and said, "Are you just going to stand there like a stump, holding that tub?"

He blinked, startled, and glanced down at the gray plastic container full of dishes. When he glanced back up, they were gone. He whirled around a few times, looking for them, and settled his gaze on Benny, who was leaning on the bar, watching him with some interest.

Walking his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other, the café owner nodded at the tub. "You plannin' t' take that t' th' kitchen?"

"… uh …"

Tapping the bar, Benny said, "Just leave it here. I'll get it. You don't know your way around back there anyhow."

Blinking in confusion, Beast Boy did as suggested. Then he just stood there, perplexed. "Did … did you, uh …"

"Yeah?"

"Did you see a girl here?"

"Well … Leah was here. She buses tables. But she wasn' feelin' too good, and left with a friend."

"… Oh. Right." He shook his head and rubbed the side of his neck, brow furrowed as he tried to remember … _something_. "Yeah. Guess that was it."

"Did ya need any more pancakes?"

"Huh?" He brightened then. "Oh! Yeah! Pancakes." Looking back over at their table, he could see the other three boys had sat and were shoveling away, his own plate lying forlornly empty. "Yeah, more pancakes! That's it."

"I'll let Madge know."

"Cool! Thanks, man!"

"No problem." And Benny hefted the tub under one arm and clomped back to the kitchen.

. . .

. . .

. . .

**[Author's Note: Now, is anyone still curious as to how Benny can do all the things he did? Heh.]**


End file.
